


Wolfjob

by loverlyduck



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic, Still not sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverlyduck/pseuds/loverlyduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shots based on prompts from Tumblr as well as the multi-chaptered mini-fic Barrysta (a coffee shop AU).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The D Club

**Author's Note:**

> ONE SHOT.  
> An anonymous posted this prompty-prompt that said, "*cough* The D Club *cough*" and I said, WHY NOT.
> 
> If you have any prompts, drop a comment! Or send me a message on Tumblr at Loverlyduck!

They're sitting on the couch mindlessly flicking through Netflix. The constant blooping noise of selection grates at Barry's nerves. Dan can never find a movie he likes, so he switches to TV shows. When he runs through all of those, he changes it to foreign films. Deciding he doesn't want to read subtitles, Dan will usually go two rows back up to comedy, trying to find a special he hasn't seen. Barry tries to turn the volume on his laptop up, but it's impossible to drown out the noise.

He's halfway through an episode when Dan from a few hours ago tells him through his headset that he should pause the video here. Barry does and lets the video play. He only half listens to the audio, watching Dan scroll through the endless selection. He's back on movies--this could take all night.

Suddenly he hears Danny say his name. He whips his head to face his room mate, but Dan hasn't moved. It was from the video. He listens intently.

"He's so great at what he does... So dedicated to the cause... I just want to fondle his scrotum... So badly."

Barry chokes on a layer of spit. He turns his head back towards Dan, cheeks flushed, but his eyes are still glued to the TV.

Attempting to regain his composure, he replays the audio again. Yep. That's what he said. Barry wills himself to press play again.

"I would give him a full on, uh, like, sword play session."

It takes all of Barry's concentration to not look at Dan again. Just hearing it come out of his mouth via recording is bad enough--if he looked at him now he's not sure he could handle it.

He listens to the whole story, mouth gaping. He slowly takes his headset off before attempting to look at Danny again. Just thinking about it makes him squirm on his side of the couch. A "D Club"? What the fuck--why would Danny ask him to elaborate on that? And why did they preface it with docking with Barry?

"Danny," Barry finally says, voice cracking on the final syllable. Danny looks away from the TV and their eyes lock. Barry's suddenly a deer in the headlights. He stutters a bit before saying, "What the fuck is the D Club?"

Dan recoils a bit before laughing hysterically. Just the memory of the story made him relive the hilarity of the situation. He doubles over slightly when he finishes his laugh, mustering up the courage to face their inquisitive editor.

"T-the D Club," Danny laughs out, "is classified. Member's only." A giggle bubbles up to his lips before he's doubled over again.

Barry's frustrated, he wants to know more about it and he wants to know why Dan was so interested, so he blurts out, "How do I become a member then?" His hands gesture wildly above him, fed up with Danny and Arin's inside joke.

Danny sobers up and stops laughing for a second, taking the time to collect himself before answering, "You've gotta touch dicks with another member--" and he's lost it again. While Danny has his fit, Barry moves closer to him on the couch. He notices the sudden movement and straightens up, the remaining laughs reverberating through his body.

"Are you a member?" Barry asks, pushing the subject past the funny point. Danny stares at him, confused and uncomfortable.

"Classified..." Dan responds, trying to put an end to this conversation, but Barry is persistent. He watches as Barry glances downward towards his crotch, eyes following his until they make eye contact again.

The air between them is electrified, their faces closer than they've ever been, even when sharing the small couch in the Grump room. Danny can see Barry's blue eyes in high definition-- they're determined and sparkling. They've lived in the same place for a while now, but he never noticed the sharpness of Barry's nose or the softness of his cheeks before. The contrast is oddly appealing and Dan's hand finds its way to Barry's face, his fingers tracing a line from the top of his side burn to the bottom of his bearded chin in an unsteady line.

Barry's breath catches in his throat. He has to admit, that felt odd, but good. Danny touching him wasn't a weird occurrence, however with their bodies so close, it makes every movement so intimate. Barry leans forward ever so slightly, hovering just over Danny's mouth. This felt right.

All barriers break down when their lips meet. All restraints are taken off. Barry clumsily climbs in to his lap, straddling his skinny thighs. Their lips slip against one another in an unpracticed kiss. Their mouths mingle together in a hot dance that leaves them breathless. Barry can feel his blood rush to his cock, their tentative touches leaving him charged.

He feels Barry fumble for his belt against his stomach. The boldness of the action goes right to his dick, just the thought of touching Barry sends his brain in to overdrive. He helps him undo the complicated combination that is other people's belts and they both shove Barry's pants down. His dick springs forward with the power of arousal and Dan has to break their kiss for a moment to look at it. Barry's struck with extreme embarrassment and immediately tries to pull Dan's pants down with his. Dan's sitting position made it difficult, but soon Dan's dick was free, laying flat against his stomach, supported by the still sort of half on boxers around his hips.

They're both frozen as reality catches up to them. Danny's the only one of them ballsy enough to finish it--Barry's blind determination got them here, but Danny's endless ambition will finish it.

He grips Barry's dripping erection, precum coating the tip in a delicious display. Barry groans at the touch and bucks slightly in to Dan's hand; he places his hands on the back of the couch behind Dan's head, fingers gripping the cushions tightly.

Danny brings their cocks together, the sudden sweet friction making both of them moan with shuddering gasps soon following. Barry moves his hips closer to Dan's, grazing the full length of Dan's dick with his own.

Danny steadies them in his large hands, unsure of how to proceed. Barry pumps forward in to Dan's hand, passing over Dan's hard on each time. The feeling is long and drawn out with each slow pass, and soon Barry is bent over Danny on the couch, elbows coming together to embrace Dan's face in his forearms. He rests his forehead on the top of Dan's head, hips moving slower than he wants, but afraid to move any faster.  
Dan lifts his hips to meet Barry's stride. Dan groans deeply at the relief. He hears Barry's ragged breathing, sprinkled with gasps and shudders. That alone spurs him on.

Their bodies writhe together on that couch in the living room. Netflix abandoned for more interesting pursuits. Barry's laptop left to die on their coffee table, the footage still silently playing. All they can hear is their own moans and the soft creak of the couch beneath them.

Their next kiss is more sure, harder and passionate. Their mouths collide together in a flurry of teeth and spit, neither letting up on the sweet feeling of their building orgasms. Barry's hips move a little faster, with a little more flair. Dan's hips raise in erratic rhythms trying to keep up Barry's pace. He feels Barry's legs squeeze his own before he breaks their kiss.

Barry comes first, exclaiming incoherent nothingness before removing his arms from behind Dan. Danny takes a few more gyrating hip movements before he's coming right after, a broken cry escaping his lips.

"So," Barry breathes out, face flushed, "Am I in the D Club?"

Dan scoffs and reaches for the tissues on their makeshift side table. He wipes uselessly at his ruined shirt and pointedly ignores the question.


	2. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompt of these lovelies getting caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the GG panel. They were asked their favorite fanfic.  
> What's the only one Arin's ever read?  
> Edit That In. My fic.  
> I write this with an emotion I cannot describe. 
> 
> Enjoy this Drabble I just wrote while waiting for Steam Train/NSP panel.

It's hard to hold back. Barry stares at Dan's profile, his jaw hard and set in determination. His fingers jerk across the controller in practiced motions, the veins in his hands protrude slightly with strain. His posture is relaxed, but rigid--his spine tight and shoulders tensed. His legs are long, spreading out the entire length of the couch, taking up more than his fair share of the cushions. It makes him uneasy to watch with such familiarity; to stare when he knows he might be caught; to think about their closeness and what goes on behind closed doors. 

It wasn't long ago they established whatever relationship they have going on. They make out. They get off. They go back to work. But how can you separate yourself from something that makes you feel so nice? 

The first time, Barry and Dan were returning exhausted from a day from work. Dan was decidedly more tired and threw himself on the couch in the living room. It wasn't long before Dan's babbling turned in to snores as he passed out on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes and one leg dangling over the edge of the couch. Concerned, Barry tried to wake him up, but the sharp snoring cut through all his attempts. Accepting defeat, Barry grabs a blanket and tossed it over him haphazardly, taking the time to fix it before he went to sleep himself. 

The closeness was unsettling. When he wrapped up his shoulders in a blanket cocoon, their faces only inches apart, Barry couldn't move. He stared at the sleeping man below him, breathing him in with every shallow breath. With no coherence to keep him from doing so, he kissed him. Their lips only barely connecting, Barry could feel the current between them--the desire to press his weight against him and take his lips fully. 

He hadn't expected Dan to be the one to lift up and meet him. Now, staring at him in the Grump room, the memories flood back and his face flushes. It's difficult to try and hide his attraction to Dan. It's the hardest when he glances over between deaths, eyes searching for his, the knowing look, the small smile--it makes his heart seize in a way he didn't know it could. 

Painstakingly long hours pass with the same problem. The constant streaming, the never ending sessions--all Barry can think about is wrapping his arms around him and having a few private moments in their public life. 

Those small moments make the long hours bearable and every day Barry craves them more and more. 

When Arin decides to take a long break, Barry's heart jumps in to his chest. The tension in the room is palpable, building with every moment until Arin finally leaves the room. 

It only takes seconds for dan to stand up and walk over to Barry, arms open and eyes sparkling. Barry could only think to liken it to a puppy before Dan's upon him, straddling his lap, throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him wildly.

The smack of their lips resonates through the Grump room, their lips separate and collide with sudden need, the build up of the day coming to a boiling point. Without delay Barry's hands are under Dan's shirt, feeling the warmth of his chest, the tickle of his happy trail before following it up to the light dusting of chest hair on his sternum, and then back down. The hairs curl around his fingers, tempting him to stay there. Dan's arms squeeze him harder, crushing their upper bodies together in a mess of limbs and lips.

Their kiss calms when they're so close they can't move their heads away from one another. Dan's lips form around Barry's in a perfect mold, their mouths moving together in a synchronized rhythm. All they can hear is the pumping of their hearts and the pace of their breathing.

Dan reaches for Barry's belt, ruffling at the buckle with both hands. Barry's right there, laying a cautioned hand over Dan's over excited ones. They break away to look at each other and Dan notices his worried eyes.

"We have a while." Dan smiles, bringing their lips together again, "Come on, I wanna get you off."

Barry takes a sharp intake of breath and Dan successfully undos his belt. 

He exhales a shaky breath as Dan holds him in a loose grip, feeling the heaviness of Barry's cock in his hand. Dan subconsciously licks his lips before giving Barry a full pump. Barry moans at the contact and bucks up slightly in to his hand, relishing the lost feeling. 

He needed more. He wanted to feel more of Dan, see more of Dan--it's becoming impossible to satisfy his need for the confident man above him. Before Barry can successfully remove Dan's shirt, the sound of a door knob knocks him out of his haze. The door swings open before Dan can register the sudden change in mood. 

"I fuckin' knew it!" Arin yells, pointing at their entanglement, grinning from ear to ear. It's a few more stunned moments later before Arin adds, "I'll leave you two love birds alone." In a painfully smug sing-song voice.

Dan's watching the door, his face mirroring the mortified expression on Barry's. Suddenly the idea of getting off isn't as appealing.


	3. Singing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Dan singing~ I wasn't sure how to work this in to my main fic without forcing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been in the making since New Years! Whoops! Thank you thatannoyingone on Tumblr for musing me out of my writing block with her amazing art!!!
> 
> Enjoy!

Dan's dancing around the living room. It seems like he has unlimited energy all the time, always doing something and never sitting still. Barry on the other hand is curled up in a chair, laptop on his knees, doing everything other than standing up. He's got five tabs open on various social medias and iTunes open and playing. Dan dances to the catchy chiptune music, hips swaying, arms attempting to match the tempo of the music. Barry peaks over his laptop occasionally to watch his mindless dance, but it makes his stomach hurt to watch. He's so graceful, even when he's trying to be silly. Barry's mouth goes dry and he takes a hard swallow. Yep, that's a weird feeling--back to the internet.

It takes a little longer, but Dan loses his momentum, no longer interested in throwing his body aimlessly around the living room. He runs a hand through his unruly hair, flipping it over his head and smoothing it down. Barry watches the motion out of the corner of his eye, Dan's long arm stretching over his head, the way his shirt lifts off his body, exposing a bit of boxer and a strip of hip bone. He watches a bit too long and senses Dan's eyes on him. His head snaps up and locks eyes with Dan, refusing to admit to himself that he was staring. Dan only looks confused for a second before he smiles.

"Play something else." Dan prompts, pulling at the loose curls of his hair.

"Like what?" Barry scrolls down his iTunes library--there's not much variation. It's mostly the same as what he's already been playing. He hears Dan's impatient sigh.

"I don't know, something catchy. With lyrics!" Dan tacks on the end, attempting to make a point.

"Alright, I get it." Barry grumbles. If he didn't like his music he could have said something. He must have liked something about it by the way he was dancing... Barry pushes the thought away and turns on the first thing he comes across with lyrics.

Blondie's Call Me plays out of his laptop speakers and Dan instantly jumps back, "Perfect!" he exclaims before vaulting back in to a rhythmic dance to the opening beat. Barry tries not to watch, but it's impossible. He's swaying his hips, singing in time with Blondie, dragging his hands across his body. "Color me your color; baby color me your car; color me your color; darling I know who you are;" He hypes himself up to the chorus, stamping his feet before belting out.

"Call me! You can call me any day or night--call me--" Dan dancing could only be likened to a sultry woman at Woodstock trying to seduce an inebriated man. He wiggles his hips when it gets slow, and then blasts out during the chorus, his shoulders jutting forward pattern, hair going like a true 80's band. The whole display earns an open mouthed stare from Barry. He can't help but watch as his roommate makes a fool out of himself in the middle of their living room. He starts to laugh before he can stop himself. Dan's in the kitchen holding a spatula to his lips, singing in to it with as much gusto as a microphone--eyes closed, mouth open as far as it will go.

When the song ends Barry can't breathe. He's holding on to his laptop for support, the tremors of laughter coursing through his arms. Dan motions towards him with both hands, urging him to play another one. Barry calms down his residual giggles and scrolls.

Dan recognizes the song by the first line and is already belting out the beginning harmony. Barry watches him sink to the floor and rise slowly with the building tempo, arms out like he's about to catch the sun, shimmying with the instrumentals.

"Let's dance!" Dan sings, putting a hand on his hip and pointing at Barry. Barry laughs, but is instantly mortified when Dan rushes over, pushes his laptop aside, and grabs both of Barry's hands. "Put on your red shoes and dance the blues--" Dan's still singing, pushing Barry's arms back and forth in time with his own. Barry can't move, stunned in to a stationary position.

In an attempt to pull the rhythm out of Barry, Dan pulls him closer to his body, bringing their chests together, and then pushing him backwards, in a weird variation of a two-step. Dan continues to sing, his voice curling around the lyrics, perfectly changing his tone to match David Bowie. His eyes are closed, feeling the song rather than listening to it. Barry is eye level with his neck, noticing the way his Adam's apple bobs with every note. He can see the small veins in his neck show as he hits a particularly hard note. He can hear his breath; feel his singing through his chest. Barry feels his throat tighten, his palms suddenly sweaty against Dan's, the closeness seemingly unbearable. There's no way he's attracted to Dan's singing--it's just impressive… and pretty embarrassing.

"Because my love for you, would break my heart in two. If you should fall, in to my arms, and tremble like a--" Dan breathes in, "Flow-ah!" Barry lets out a laugh he didn't know he was holding in. It was all too perfect. 

"Under the moonlight--" Dan grips Barry's hands a bit tighter, "The serious moonlight!" Dan brings their bodies close as the song ends, letting Barry's playlist seamlessly drag them in to the next one.

Dan takes a small step back, face flushed with exertion or embarrassment he couldn't tell. Barry's caught up in the moment, still taking time to register the beating of his heart and the rate of his breathing. They're staring at each other, hands on each other's arms, wondering what to do--who should move first. 

The next song starts and Dan smiles. He brings Barry closer to him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing his body in to his. Dan wraps his arms around Barry's shoulders and allows their limbs melt together in a slow dance. 

"Take me out tonight." Dan rumbles, "Where there's music and there's people and they're young and alive..." Dan's voice is soft next to his ear, taking in the song and gently swaying them side to side. Barry's caught up in the tenderness of it all, he can't move his hands--they're firmly planted on Dan's forearms.

"And if a double decker bus... Crashes in to us... To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die." Barry's unable to register the multitude of emotions that course through his body as Dan leans his head forward and presses their foreheads together, "And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us; to die by your side-- well the pleasure the privilege is mine."

Barry's frozen. He feels Dan's face move towards him and has no desire to stop it. They kiss. Barry's eyes close slowly, his face pressing upwards in to Dan's. Their mouths are closed, only opening slightly to move their lips against one another. Barry can feel Dan's tongue graze across his lips in a slow testing motion. As the chorus comes around again, Barry opens his mouth, allowing Dan's probing tongue access. The kiss is slow, passing over them like molten lava. Barry's legs shake beneath him; Dan's arms the only thing keeping him from falling down. Dan hums in the back of his throat as their tongues connect; Barry moaning in to the kiss--this felt right.

 _'There is a light that never goes out..._ The song fades in to the background, forgotten.

\---

A few days later, both Barry and Dan are experiencing one of the hottest days on record--Barry sporting only sweatpants and Dan even more scantily clad than that in only his boxer shorts. They're sitting on the floor in their living room attempting to soak up the residual AC from their down stairs neighbors to no avail. Barry lets out a frustrated sigh and places his laptop on the floor in front of him. He puts his hands behind him, reclining on the palms. It's too hot to work, too hot to concentrate. Dan still somehow is able to type away on whatever he's working on in the scorching heat. Barry sighs and closes his eyes.

He hears the music, the soft chords, before feeling Dan behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"Imagine me and you--I do." He laughs and buries his face in Barry's hair, "I think about you day and night--it's only right--to think about the gir- _boy_  you love and hold  _him_  tight.." Barry laughs, but leans backwards in to Dan's embrace.

"So happy together..." Dan sings in to Barry's ear. Barry can't help but smile as he sings the whole song, Dan's hands wandering idly up and down Barry's body with every line. Barry puts a hand on his bony knee and rubs circles on it with his fingers. It's too hot to be this close, but Barry can't push him away. Barry loves it when he sings, when he does a private serenade for him and only him.

He feels Dan's hands push down his stomach, through his happy trail. He wiggles his fingertips under the waist band, dragging them back and forth across the elastic in a teasing motion. Barry's already hard, leaning back more in to Dan's chest to allow him easier access. Dan's hand slides easily down, no other pieces of clothing coming between him and Barry's cock.

Dan sings the final verses of the song while stroking Barry's hard-on slowly in time with the beat, increasing in tempo as the song comes to a crescendo. Barry moans, turning in to Dan's neck, licking the taut skin there, tasting the sweat pooling in the creases of his neck. Barry feels Dan moan and Dan quickly wraps his arm around Barry's soft middle and pulls his body closer to him.

"Ungh, don't stop." Dan growls, pumping him harder as Barry's ministrations quicken; his tongue swirling around Dan's skin before sucking hard, ending each kiss by taking a small bit between his teeth and nipping softly. Dan moans loudly, pressing his ignored erection in to Barry's back. Barry reaches back and runs a hand through Dan's messy hair, feeling the curls run across his skin. He needs to see his face, has to touch him.

Barry stops, earning a frustration groan from Dan, and turns around in his lap--disconnecting Dan's hand for only a moment while he situations them. He's sitting in Dan's open lap, legs slightly wrapped around his waist, but still with enough access to pull down Dan's boxers. He pulls down his own waistband slightly, revealing his dripping erection. He situations himself closer before pulling on Dan's boxers and bringing Dan's hard on to meet his own. Dan grabs Barry's waist, hunching his shoulders forward and moaning. Their dicks come together, their slick precum mixing with the residual sweat, coating Barry's hand. Barry can barely keep up with his own pace; the feeling's too much; the pumping too erratic. His stomach tightens and releases with every pump, every pass of their cocks sends a shuddering wave down his spine.

Dan pushes his way through to Barry's lips, capturing them in a heady kiss. Their tongues wrap together inside and outside their mouths; any barriers they might have had broken down as Dan's mouth opens wider to take more of Barry. He can taste the salty tang of effort on their lips, their teeth coming together in bits of spontaneous pressure, each one unable to get enough of one another.

Dan adds his hand to Barry's covering it with his own. Barry gargles a moan, feeling Dan's calloused hands together with his own--all passing over his cock; feeling Dan's erection slip past his--Barry's vision blurs slightly and he has to close his eyes. Dan watches their slippery mess through hooded eyes, taking in the sight of their hard ons in both of their hands, squeezing through spread fingers and dripping on to their palms. As they stroke together, they have to periodically break their kiss just to breathe on each other’s lips. Dan takes these moments to look at Barry's half lidded eyes, his open, swollen mouth--and can't stop himself from bringing him closer and kissing him harder and faster than before--quickening his pace on their aching cocks.

"A-ah--!" Barry pulls away first, leaning back and moaning Dan's name before coming hard inbetween them. He latches his lips on to Dan's neck again as he continues to orgasm, silently begging Dan to follow him, to come with him.

It doesn't take long; soon Dan's moaning Barry's name over and over, coming endlessly on to the floor, turning his head to breathe in Barry's scent, surrounding himself with him. He runs a shaky hand up Barry's side, up to his face, through his hair and grabs as much as he can, pushing his face closer to his. He presses their cheeks hard against one another so they can feel each other's labored breathing. 

"You're so fucking sexy, Barry." Dan breathes, moving to kiss him again. Barry scoffs in to their kiss, but doesn't fight him--it seems inappropriate to mention that he came to Unicorn Wizard, which doesn't feel sexy at all.


	4. Onslaught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I took a lot of prompts from Tumblr tonight and I'm posting them here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add a Rubberbang tag in for this fic, but please know that I do NOT ship this currently. I ship past!Ross and Danny, pre-Holly. Ross is married now, so this as a current ship kind of bothers me.

**Prompt: could you write some cute rubberbang handjobs?? for the drabble thing ;w;**  
  
"You’re so short." Dan mumbles, pulling off his shirt and throwing it to the side.

"You’re too tall!" Ross rebuttals, kicking off his shoes. The sudden vision of Dan shirtless hindering his already poor comebacks. Dan’s flight back to New York leaves soon, they have to make this quick.

They’re in the airport parking lot, Dan’s sitting in the backseat, Ross straddling his lap; the small confines of the car perfectly fitting Ross’ tiny frame.

"Why are you taking off your shoes?!" Danny chuckles, grabbing the hem of Ross’ shirt and pulling.

"Wha—?" is all Ross can get out before the fabric of his shirt chokes off his answer.

"Shut up, Ross." Danny sighs before effectively silencing him.

He hates his stupid talking, but he loves the noises he makes, the small moans and the choked gasps. The little flutters of breathing while he sucks hard on one nipple, fingering the other between his pointer and index finger. Ross arches in to him, grabbing the edge of the seat for support.

When Danny reaches a stray hand for Ross’ zipper he sits up; the strong urge to touch him coursing through his fingers.

He runs a hand up Dan’s chest, feeling the sinewy muscle and the curls of his chest hair—his skin stretched taut over his sternum. He leans down and presses his lips to the hardness of his protruding collar bone and feels Dan moan through his skin.

Dan finally has his hands down Ross’ pants, fishing greedily for his already hard cock. He gives it a long feel inside his boxers before pushing down Ross’ pants a bit and pulling it out fully. Ross moans and palms Dan through his layers of jeans and boxers. Ross rests his forehead in the forest of hair on top of Dan’s head, wrapping his arm around his neck and pulling himself closer to him. 

The confined friction in his jeans combined with the feeling of Ross in his hand is frustrating—he just wants to bend Ross over the steering wheel and fuck him mercilessly; not caring who sees. He reaches for his own belt, pushing it aside along with the top of his pants and pulling out his own painful erection. Ross takes notice and quickly grasps it with a little too much force.

"G-God dammit, Ross.." Danny breathes out, too turned on to be mad. 

It’s always quick with Ross; he pumps hard and fast against Dan— they never have more than a few seconds, and it’s over. A small gasp, a long moan, and Ross is slack in Dan’s lap, mouth open. All they can hear is their breathing. Dan’s hand is slick with their hot mess; their chests matching. Ross never cares—he forces their bodies together and brings Danny in to a long kiss. It’s never smooth, it’s never easy—Ross always wants, he’s never satisfied.

**\---**

**Prompt: Pssst, maybe razzabang at magfest/hotel at magfest???**

The hotel room is empty besides them. The others are out, exploring the majesty of National Harbor, but they have better things to do.

They’re on the startched white hotel bed, Dan on top of Barry, kissing his way up his chest, lingering at his jaw. His hands run down his waist; a finger passes under the waist of his jeans. 

Their shirts were discarded long ago, thrown haphazardly on to the hotel’s provided chair. Pants soon join as their touches become more insistent, more demanding. It’s been a week since they’ve fucked; it’s been a week since they've been alone; a week since they’ve been able to steal away from their public life and have a private moment.

Dan’s fingers, slick with lube, probe lightly at Barry’s entrance, testing the tight ring of muscle. Barry sighs and tries to relax, but the build up of the week and the high risk situation makes it difficult to loosen up. With a few deep breaths he finally gives Dan the go-ahead, allowing him to push one finger in. Barry moans loudly, tossing his head back against the starched pillow—he’s missed this feeling. Dan’s finger gently curls, searching for something that his practiced hands know is there. 

He finds it. Barry chokes a moan and arches his back, silently begging for more. Dan obliges, entering one more finger, never losing the small nub he loves to probe. Dan scissors his fingers; each pass glancing off of Barry’s pleasure center, sending him in to another fit of mild orgasm. His breathing becomes labored, his chest heaving with effort.

Barry grasps the sheets next to him, writhing his legs back and forth, trying to find something, anything else to stimulate him. Dan likes to play with him, to make sure he’s ready, but today Barry can’t take it. He sits up, pushing Dan’s shoulders, forcing Dan to fall backwards. Barry’s over Dan, legs straddling his hips; Dan almost forgets to breathe.

"W-wait Barry—" Dan tries, but Barry’s already sliding the condom down on to Dan’s hard cock, fully covering it with more lube before positioning himself.

"I can’t wait, Dan…" Barry almost moans out, sinking down on to Dan’s waiting erection. Dan grabs Barry’s hips, fingers digging in to the tender skin. Dan has to shut his eyes agianst the welcoming tightness enveolping his dick. Barry’s head is thrown back, mouth open in a long, silent groan. When he’s all the way in, Dan waits, making sure he’s fully adjusted, before slightly lifting his hips in to Barry.

Barry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, “Dan…” he sighs before leaning forward, placing his hands on Danny’s chest and lifting himself up slightly.

"God Dan," Barry gaps, lowering himself back down again, "You feel so good." He breathes, arching his back.

Dan swallows, his throat dry and his mouth salivating. He grabs Barry’s ass, taking full handfuls and sits up, bringing their bodies closer so Barry’s sitting in his lap. He’s so turned on Barry’s shocked expression could have been enough to get him off right then and there.

"I feel good?" Dan asks, kissing Barry’s lips chastely before lifting him up, locking eyes with him before slowly lowering him back down, hitting that spot that makes Barry lose control of his voice. Barry moans, grabbing on to Dan’s shoulders and gripping, "You’re so god damn tight," Dan mumbles, forcing another kiss on to Barry’s lips, "You’re fucking amazing, Barry." He rubs their jaws together, the stubble colliding and causing a gentle friction. Barry can hardly keep up a rhythm; Dan’s practiced pace hitting that sweet spot over, and over again.

Dan can feel himself getting close. He adjusts them again so Barry’s back under him and he’s on top, looking down at his flushed lover; Barry’s hair disheveled, his lips red and bruised.

"I’m going to fuck you in to this mattress." Dan growls before doing one fast, hard pump in to Barry causing him to gasp loudly, moaning out a long breath. Barry grabs for the frame behind the bed as Dan slams in to him over and over, each thrust deeper than the one before it; each one sending him further and further from reality and more and more in to an endless sea of nothing but them.

 Dan reaches down and takes Barry in his hand. He gasps, the feeling too much—after only two strokes Barry’s coming hard on to his stomach, each residual stroke sending more cum on to his chest.

"You’re so perfect." Dan growls before thrusting twice more in to Barry’s tightness, stomach seizing in an intense moment of orgasm.

Barry pulls Dan down, grabbing on to his hair and forcing their faces together. Their kiss is hard and rough, teeth clashing with tongues in a war of sexual frustration. 

Barry feels himself melting in to the mattress as they kiss. He's going to be sore, Dan should pull out, they should get dressed, they should act like nothing happened.

Or maybe Barry should give Dan a hickey. Both are viable options.

\---

**Prompt: Rubberbang. Ice cream. Feeding each other. It gets mess** **y** **;)**

"Dammit, what the hell, Ross?" Danny’s chest seizes with the cold contact of an entire bowl of vanilla ice cream being dumped on his chest. Ross, who’s straddling his waist, just laughs above him.

"What?" Ross is holding the ice cream bowl over Danny’s chest letting the melted bits all drip out. "This is what you said right?"

"No—God, really Ross? You think this is sexy?" Danny idly fingers the pool of melted vanilla on his sternum, bringing a fully coated finger to his lips and licking.

"Yes?" Ross questions before laughing again, crouching low to Dan’s torso and licking a thick stripe up from his hip bone to his stomach. Ross can hear the small moans coming from the man below him and continues lapping up the sticky mess that’s spreading across Dan’s chest. Dan wipes a stray line that’s creeping down his side and brings it to Ross’ lips. He greedily takes Dan’s entire finger in to his mouth, licking the length before sucking on it completely.  
  
Danny’s stunned in to silence watching Ross’ careful tongue slip between his lips and swirl around his finger; his eyes closed, fully immersed in the task of cleaning him fully.  
  
Ross finally stops and opens his eyes, locking on with Dan before smiling.  
  
The sound of a knock on the door startles both of them out of their private session, Danny throws a panicked look towards Ross.  
  
"Oh right! Arin’s coming over—hurry get a shirt on!" Ross, who isn’t covered in vanilla ice cream, runs to his discarded shirt and pulls it on; leaving to answer the door. Danny sits there in stunned silence on Ross’ bed, staring at his messy chest and painful erection.  
  
"What the hell Ross?!" He screams at the empty room. Why does he get talked in to this shit?

\---

 **Prompt: where barry has to go on his tippy toes to sneak a kiss from danny (i guess that would work with ross too they're both short** **idk)**  
  
  
They’re in the Grump room, Barry sitting on a chair off to the side while Danny and Arin play through a game. Barry’s headphones are on as he edits another episode. When Arin decides on a ten minute break Barry pushes his headphones to the side, locking eyes with Dan as Arin leaves the room. Dan stands up, stretching his luxuriously long limbs before walking over to Barry and placing his hands on either side of Barry—his arms enclosing him in his chair. Leaning down he gives Barry a gentle kiss, just enough to get them through the next two hours of streaming before they have a break. It’s soft, their mouths closed and moving against on another’s. It’s a nice kiss, but Barry’s heart stirs in his chest—it’s not enough of one.  
  
Danny straightens back up, throwing a smirk at Barry before stepping back, cracking his neck and giving Barry a full view of his gorgeous skin. Barry can’t take it and stands up in one fast motion, vaulting himself upwards and wrapping his arms around Dan’s neck, dragging his face closer to his level. Dan’s surprised face is the perfect precursor to Barry slamming his lips against Dan’s, taking his lips fully in his own, tongues probing for entrance. Dan crouches down slightly, his hands find their way around Barry’s waist, and he squeezes tightly, bringing him up closer to his full height, picking him up slightly off the ground. Barry can feel the tips of his toes make contact with the floor and not much else. His flushed face is hidden by the onslaught of Dan’s lips.  
  
When they pull away Dan’s got a smug look on his face. They detangle themselves slowly.  
  
"Shut up…" Barry mumbles before sitting back down and shoving his headphones back on. 

\---

 **Prompt: College AU plz  
  
** **Note: I’m actually working on a serious fic of this right now actually! How did you know?! Hahhaa. I’ll write a short drabble for it now though.**  
  
He said he’d be here right after class. His office hours are now, so the fact that he’s late just makes Barry more impatient. He’s sitting on his desk, idly hitting his feet against the edge of it. He shares this office with three other Teacher’s Assistants and it’s crowded, papers everywhere except for where they belong. Barry notices the name tag, several names shoved on to one placard. “Dan Avidan” is crunched in between two other bland names he can’t bring himself to remember. Just seeing his name on something that looks mildly professional send his heart up to his chest. He tries not to think about it too much, reminding himself he’s just some assistant for a Music Theory professor—not really anyone super important—but the placard’s gold text stares at him and he can’t bring his eyes away from it. He picks it up and traces the letters with a finger, the grooves spelling out his name in perfect gold filigree 

As if on que Dan storms in to the room, slamming the door behind him. His already wild hair in a crazed mess, the unshaven stubble of this morning slowly protruding in to a real beard. He straightens himself up and wipes at the shoulders of his tattered blazer before speaking.  
  
"Barry, glad you’re here." He smiles his winning smile and straightens his lapel. "I have important… college things… to discuss with you!" Dan strains a smile and Barry notices him motion to the door. He stretches his neck to look past his broad shoulders and sees the shadows in the glass, followed by the chorus of lady-like giggles resonating from the hallway. Barry sighs and realization and hops off the table, sauntering up to Dan and taking his collar in both of his hands, yanking down hard.  
  
"Right." Barry huffs, annoyed that they’re being watched, "So many important college things to talk about." He forces their lips together, a loud, wet smack echoing through the office. He hears the girls outside the door gasp before running away, their retreating feet clacking on the ceramic tile. That’ll teach those desperate freshman girls.  
  
Dan forces himself back from Barry, pushing on his shoulders.  
  
"Hey!" Dan gasps, heading to the door and opening it slightly. He looks down the hall way, but the girls are no where to be found. "Do you want me to get fired?!"  
   
Barry is tempted to say yes, but just walks over to him at the door and pushes him against it. He captures his kiss again and leans in to him, his toes barely brushing the ground. He feels Dan’s arms encircle him—he’s forgiven for now, but his heart pounds at the thought of his punishment later **  
**


	5. Incoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took more prompts! Yeahyeahyeah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts provided by anons as well as Tumblr users razzabang, and foxyfoxynoxen.
> 
> Thank you for your prompts! And if you have one send them to me at loverlyduck on Tumblr!

**Prompt: barry getting a blowjob**

He can barely get through the door before Dan’s pushing him through it, squeezing by him and slamming the door shut.

"W-wha-" Barry tries to ask before Dan slams his body against the door, locking it through the crook in his arm.

Dan sinks to one knee, ripping the belt loose from around his waist and yanking his jeans down below his ass. He’s already half hard. Dan licks his lips, pressing Barry harder in to the wood of the door, while he takes Barry loosely in one hand.

Barry’s against the door as he can possibly get, placing his palms flat against the surface. He can barely believe what’s happening—it’s too fast. Dan pumps him lightly, encircling his dick with his pointer finger and thumb, small, light touches that are driving him insane. He bucks forward in to his hand, wishing for more contact. Dan laughs, looking up at him.

They make eye contact for a second; Dan places his hands on Barry’s hips and pushes him hard against the door. Dan smiles before his lips descend on the tip; he takes it in to his mouth, sucking lightly. Barry moans, melting slightly down the door. His legs feel weak; he has to grasp at the door handle to keep himself from falling. It’s so sensitive; he silently begs Dan to move more and wishes he could thrust in to the warm confines of his mouth. 

Dan doesn’t let up, swirling around the head and tonguing the slit, tasting the salty tang of precum; lapping it up greedily. He moves half way down before pulling back slightly. He hears Barry’s moan of protest, and he hums softly; the vibration sent down the length of Barry’s dick. Barry’s hips twitch forward slightly, begging him for more.

Barry grabs Dan’s hair, head falling back and knocking against the door. His mouth is slack, open wide; he’s moaning incoherently unable to form any words. Dan smiles, looking up at Barry’s flushed neck and feeling the small tugs on his hair.

He takes Barry fully, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat. Barry has to look down, staring at him in awe—it’s so hot, it’s too much.

"D-Dan i’m gonna—" Barry’s choked off by his own groan. The beading tremors warn Dan and he quickly pulls him out of his mouth, pumping him with both hands before he comes hard; the residual fluid hitting Dan’s carefully placed hands instead of him. 

As Barry comes down from orgasm he stares at Dan—incredulous. Dan just smiles again and pulls up Barry’s pants for him, keeping the buckle undone.

"My turn." He sing songs, practically dancing down the hallway to his bedroom. Barry shakes his head and can’t stop himself from following.

\---

**Prompt: Something like Danny/Barry/Ross? Like Danny and Ross make it up to Barry after doing something in a Steam Train vid?**   
_Author's note: I’ve said before I don’t do current Ross though. He’s married and I’m not about that._   
_I’ll write a little something-something with these three though._

It’s so obvious. Ross watches Dan and Barry joke and push each other around; their hands linger a little too long, their gazes lock and he watches the blush creep up their faces. They’re trying to be coy, trying to be subtle—but he sees it. He’s not as stupid as they might think he is—he’s knows something is going on.

It’s just them in the Grump room. Ross and Dan are playing through a game as Barry watches from his usual spot; editing while they play. In between breaks Dan always makes it a point to talk to him, always makes sure he’s OK, that he’s not bored. No way they’re just room mates. Ross knows it. And he’ll prove he knows it.

It’s in between episodes and Barry walks out of the room; presumably to go pee. Ross has his opportunity.

"So," Ross starts, "You and Barry…" He watches Dan's shoulders tense up, watches the color drain from his face. That’s a bingo. 

Dan’s hands flutter uselessly in front of him—he can barely form words. He’s so speechless Ross is actually kind of regrets bringing it up… Kind of. When Dan finds his words it’s a poor excuse for an answer…

"Me and Barry? W-what about us?" Dan’s color is returning to his face in red waves. Ross has to laugh.

"What not about you guys?" Ross’ handle on the English language astounds even him.

"That doesn’t make any sense you stupid Australian bastard." Dan quips, regaining some of his wits. He’s trying to change the subject, trying to make him mad—it’s not working.

"I see it; don’t think I don’t see it." Ross smiles and looks back to the screen, prepared to start a new episode. "I’m not stupid."

"I beg to differ." Dan retorts, picking up the other controller. It’s then that Barry walks back in to the room, a glass of water in his hands. Ross watches Dan’s head whip around to look at him, his face pleading, but Barry’s already settling in and Ross is already pressing the timer.

"Welcome back to Steam Train!" Ross announces proudly, "The only show where Dan and Barry suck each other’s dicks!"

"ROSS!" Danny screams, instantly throwing his controller down. Ross hears Barry choke on a mouthful of water and feels his laptop crashing to the floor as he presumably stands up.

"Haha, yeah!" Ross giggles, eyes firmly on the screen, proud of himself. "Ross wins!"

\---

**Prompt: yoyoyo how's about a nervous dumbass teenager prompt with dorky barry and stoner dan**

"Do you smoke?" 

Barry recoils slightly, the dank stench of Dan assaulting his nostrils. Barry’s never talked to Dan, ever. They sit next to each other in a mandatory elective; a throw away class that Dan’s waited to take until his last year. He’s lazy, he’s decidedly stupid, and he always smells like day old weed. Not exactly a straight A student’s best friend. He holds his sweater sleeve up to his nose.

"Um, no." Barry responds, breathing through his mouth. Class is almost over; five more minutes and he can run out of here and act like they never talked.

"Oh dude, you really should. You’re so tense." He feels Dan’s hand on his back rubbing small circles in between his shoulders. Barry jumps, instantly cringing and leaning away from the soft touch. Why is he touching him? Augh this is so gross and wrong. 

Finally the professor finishes his lecture and lets everyone leave. Barry’s packing up his stuff in a hurry, but Dan’s sloth like motions catch his eye. A piece of paper flutters on to his desk, the handwriting barely legible

"Come by sometime." Dan drawls before standing up and leaving the room. He doesn’t even have a backpack. God he pisses him off.

—-

Why is he here? What is he doing? This is a bad idea. 

He can hear music drifting through the door. Why the hell is a senior still living in the dorms? It smells dank as shit and he can’t bring himself to knock, this is wrong, this is breaking just so many rules. 

As he turns to leave the door swings open, the already loud music becomes blaring as Dan opens the door wide, a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Hey man, you came!" He takes Barry’s hand and pulls him in to his room, "I knew there was someone at the door…" 

Barry is shoved in to the smallest dorm room he’s ever seen. It’s practically unlivable, but there’s enough room for a twin sized mattress and a dresser. Dan doesn’t have many things and the room is surprisingly neat. Barry takes a deep breath, but is nearly chokes on the dense smoke, he coughs slightly.

"You alright man?" Dan laughs a little bit, patting his back. Barry jerks, swinging an arm behind him. "Whoa whoa whoa!" Danny exclaims, stepping back a little bit. "Calm down, dude."

Dan walks to the dresser and produces a bowl, already packed. “This one is for us.” Dan winks slightly, handing it to Barry.

He holds it away from his body, unsure of what to do with it. He didn't come here for this, did he? He’s never smoked, never wanted to smoke—what the fuck does he do with it?? Dan sits on the floor and pats the spot next to him, beckoning Barry to follow. Against his better judgement Barry does sit down, becoming more comfortable by the minute. Maybe the second hand smoke is making him lose his sensibilities, but he can’t help but be drawn to the spot next to Dan; the idea of sitting with him is strangely appealing. Dan hands him a cheap lighter and looks at him expectantly.

"How do I…" Barry turns the bowl around in his hands, looking at both ends. Dan laughs a little bit leaning closer, covering Barry's hands with his own, guiding him.

"You put your thumb here.. and this part on your mouth. Yeah like that…" He pushes his thumb over the small hole, and demonstrates how to light it. "Not that much flame on it, got it? And not that blue shit at the bottom, the actual fire…" He takes the lighter and does it for him, instructing him when to breathe, when to tap his thumb.

Barry takes a big breath, maybe too big; he feels his lungs choke, the sensation of drowning, the harsh sting in his throat. Dan’s counting, but Barry can’t hold it. He coughs violently, letting it all out in large chunks of smoke, his eyes watering. Dan rubs his back and Barry allows the soothing touch—it’s actually starting to feel nice.

"That was good, dude!" Dan takes the lighter and bowl from him and proceeds to take a hit with practiced excellence. Barry watches in awe as he holds it with no issues and lets out the smoke in one long, solid breath. He hands it back to Barry, "Do it again." A smile creeps across his lips.

They finish the bowl, Barry’s shaky hands producing more hard hits ending in choking gasps. By the end Barry’s laughing along with Dan, their words melting through their mouths, the stress seeping out of their bodies with every breath. Dan puts a hand on Barry’s thigh and he can’t be bothered to care.

"I’ve never heard you laugh." Dan’s hand travels up his leg, Barry has to admit it feels nice—everything feels nice. "You have a beautiful laugh." 

Barry’s face flushes, he’s suddenly acutely aware of how close they’re sitting, where Dan’s hand is wandering, and he likes it. He likes it when Dan touches him, when Dan notices him, when Dan talks, when Dan exists. Everything is amazing and beautiful. He reaches out and touches Dan’s face, fingers tracing his jaw and pressing against his cheek bones. He has such a nice face. His hands grab the sides of his face, thumb tracing the outline of his full lips. He watches them part slightly with his touch, he can feel Dan’s hand palm him through his jeans, he thinks he moans, but it’s trapped in Dan’s lips.

They’re kissing; when did they start kissing? Dan leans hard in to Barry, his hand becoming more persistent. Barry can’t stop touching his face, touching his hair, running his hands through his curls and down his neck. He registers that he's on the floor now, Dan’s on top of him. He can feel his lips mold over his, their tongues lazily fight inside their open mouths; their teeth clash at random intervals. Dan’s arms surround his head, he’s sinking in to the floor, enveloped by walls of Dan.

Neither of them hear the knock on the door, neither of them hear the door open, neither of them register the RA standing in the door frame pissed off and yelling at them to get up and turn the music down; all they can think about is each other, and how wonderful they feel pressing in to one another.

—-

Two day pass before they see each other again; Dan’s staring at Barry as he walks in. He watches him sit down in his usual seat, tries to will him to make eye contact with him. When his practiced telepathy doesn’t work, he lifts up his desk and slams it next to Barry’s. Barry jumps up, reflexively recoiling from Dan. Dan smiles and sits down as close to Barry as he can get. 

When Barry sits down again Dan grabs his hand. Barry’s face flushes a bright red, but he doesn't let go. Their arms and clasped hands dangle between their desks through the entire lecture, the blush never fading from Barry’s cheeks; he can’t even pay attention to what the professor is saying.

God he pisses him off.

\---

**Prompt: Danny gives Barry a lap dance! Maybe starts out as a joke and gets sexy?**

It’s late. Barry rubs his eyes and sinks further in to the couch. He’s been editing for hours, but he needs to push all these out, he needs to get ahead of schedule. He’s trying to avoid these constantly reoccurring late nights, but he can’t seem to find the motivation to stay up. 

Dan comes in the living room clad in only boxers, his tooth brush sticking out of his mouth.

"Are you still editing?" He says through layers of toothpaste. Barry just puts his face in his hands and mumbles a ‘Yes’. Dan gives him a pitiful look—he really is the most hard working of them all and he feels really bad sometimes watching him do his thing.

He spits out his toothpaste in the kitchen sink, swishing water in his mouth. He wants to help but has no idea how…

"Oh!" Dan exclaims suddenly scaring Barry out of his editing haze. He runs in to his room and grabs his laptop, quickly scrolling through his music.

"How about I… inspire you?" The words drip out of  his mouth, "Closer" playing from his laptop speakers. Barry has to look up. Dan’s running his hands up his chest, over his neck and through his hair. Barry’s mouth is dry. Dan saunters up to him, straddling his legs. He pulls the laptop off his lap, placing it on the cushion beside him. Barry reaches up to touch him, but Dan slaps his hands.

"Don’t." Dan breathes out, rolling his hips forward. He puts both of his hands on Barry’s shoulders, arching his back, sweeping his body over Barry’s. Barry can smell the peppermint sweetness on his breath, his mouth only centimeters from his. He leans forward, begging Dan to let him touch—but Dan pulls back, opening his legs and sitting on Barry’s lap. He wiggles forward, pressing his ass down on to his crotch, grinding slightly before standing back up.

He grabs Barry’s hair, pulling his head back and bringing his lips close to his again. Barry can taste his breath and makes another move to kiss him. Dan lets go of him completely and swings his leg over, practically sashaying away from Barry, his hips moving in time to the music, his steps in sync.

He starts backing up, wrapping his arms around his own waist and feeling up and down, tilting his head back and running his wandering hands through his sexy mess of curls. He backs up to Barry slowly with long steps and instead of sitting down hovers slightly over his lap and leans back, wrapping his arms around Barry’s head, writhing above him.

Barry grabs his hips, pulling him down in to his lap. 

"Stop," Barry mumbles in to his shoulder, biting softly. "I need to work and I have a fucking huge boner right now." Dan can feel it on his ass through the layers of jeans. He gets the picture, turning his head he kisses Barry’s side burn.

"Ok, fine. Later, when you’re done?" He feels Barry nod vigorously.

Mission accomplished.


	6. Vixen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from an anon and Tumblr user thatannoyingone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the prompts and lovely notes people have been leaving me on Tumblr!!! You're all so sweet and nice and I just wanna touch your wonderful, beautiful, voluptuous personalities. <33  
> Been getting some weird anon hate recently about IRL shipping.  
> All I have to say is: If they ever contact me and want me to stop writing I'll do it.  
> But until that day-- dirty fanfiction for everyone!  
> Smor-cocks-bord up in this bitch.  
> A feast of dick.  
> An endless supply of penis, straight to your door.  
> AndI'llonlystopwritingifBarrygivesmehisnumber  
> I'mdecidedlyadorablesoImean,nobigsacrifice.  
> MY TERMS GRUMPS. TAKE EM OR LEAVE EM

**Prompt: Barry and dan on the couch and barry starts touching around dans crotch but it looks like he's ignoring him and watching tv and dans like what? And then he's desperate and he yells at barry for real attention and barrys all proud of himself**

He’s hard. He can see that he’s hard; there’s a dense outline in his jeans that is obviously his dick. Dan curls towards him, putting one arm around his shoulders, placing his leg over his lap, totally obscuring his view of the stupid fucking movie that’s obviously more important. He stares at the side of his face, burning a hole in to his temple, but he won’t look over—won’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

Dan places a hand on his chest, tracing circles over the fabric with two fingers. Nothing. He splays out his fingers across his chest and rubs him down his stomach. He blinks a little bit. No progress. His hand travels farther southward, stopping at his crotch—he’s so close he can feel the heat radiating off of him. His nostrils flare, as if he’s expecting something—but it never comes. Dan watches him shift in his seat, wiggling around, trying not to be bothered by the promise of a hand job.

Dan retracts his entire body, straightening up and placing his hands on his lap; taking up the seemingly popular notion of watching this dumb ass movie. 

Barry fidgets; his erection pressing painfully against his jeans. Dan watches as he runs his hands down his legs, like he’s trying to smooth out the blood flow, but he can’t possibly calm himself. Dan can see it all, and it’s a delicious sight. 

Minutes feel like hours as Barry bites his lip, frustration filling his features. His face flushes the longer he sits. He can see his breathing speed up, as if he’s waiting for Dan to do something—anything—but Dan’s eyes are faced forward, stationary and cold.

"D-Dan, please—" Barry pleads.

That’s all it takes. Dan descends upon him like a cat ready to pounce. He pushes him hard against the couch, their lips colliding in fervent need. He feels Barry unbutton his jeans and yank them down his legs, his boxers soon following. Barry’s hand grabs him quickly, enclosing Dan in his sure fingers. Dan moans deep in to their kiss, opening his mouth wide, taking in more and more of him. 

They break only to remove their shirts; bare skin melts against skin as their bodies reconnect. Dan swallow’s up Barry’s lips in his own, tasting the hot heat of his mouth. Dan makes quick work of Barry’s pants, pulling them off in one fluid motion and throwing them to the floor. Barry groans as the friction of their bodies sends sharp shivers up his spine. 

Dan’s hips line up with Barry’s perfectly. Their cocks brush together in a long, hard pass. Barry has to pull away to moan Dan’s name; he’s so uncomfortably hard that even the relief of contact makes his hips tighten. He hisses out a breath as Dan’s hips move back down; Barry reaches up and grabs on to Dan’s shoulders, pulling him closer and gripping tightly.

Barry hears the snap of a cap and opens his eyes; Dan’s above him squirting lotion in to his hands.

"Wha—, hey—" Barry jumps back a bit, Dan looks down at his hand and back at Barry.

"This is just to make it a little smoother," Dan laughs, throwing the bottle on the floor with his discarded pants. "Don’t worry, you’ll like it." He leans in close, licking the shell of Barry’s ear.

Before Barry can retort he shoves his hand down between them, coating their dicks with slippery lubricant. Barry shivers, the cold lotion an assaulting sensation to the hot heat of their bodies. Dan realigns them, rolling his hips down in to Barry’s. Barry closes his eyes, feeling the slick hardness come together again. Dan reaches between them again and grabs them both in his hand, thrusting upward while dragging his hand downward, steadying every motion. Dan’s breath speeds up, his chest heaving above Barry. They’re so close, their faces hovering closely together. Dan’s above him grunting and whispering repetitions of “fuck”, “shit”, and “just like that..” Barry’s speechless below him, only able to hear his own heart beat, too turned on to even think about opening his eyes and watching Dan pump them together. 

Barry pulls Dan close to him, resting his face against the side of Dan’s head, breathing hard in to his ear.

"A-ah Dan, I love it when you touch me." He whispers, the hot air ghosting across Dan’s ear.

"Fuck, Barry.." Dan breathes back, groaning hard.

Barry releases Dan to arch his back, loudly moaning Dan’s name as he comes. Dan lifts his head and crashes his lips in to his in a sloppy, mistimed kiss that leaves him frozen as he comes, muscles tensing, unable to move his lips against Barry’s eager mouth.

They come down quickly, breathing hard in to each other’s skin, the sweltering heat of the room mixed with their hot bodies becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Next time," Dan draws his hand out from between them and points a messy finger at Barry, "Pay the fuck attention to me." 

"What are you talking about?" Barry’s like a deer caught in the headlights, looking up at Dan with an innocent look.

"Don’t play sexy and dumb with me," Dan says, wagging his finger again, "I was hardcore playing with your dick and you totally ignored me." A look of realization crosses his features. Barry stumbles through a sentence before clearing his throat and trying again.

"I thought," Barry blushes slightly, "I thought that if I moved… You’d stop… And it felt really nice…" Barry looks up at the ceiling, past Dan’s messy mane of hair, suddenly interested in counting the number of holes in the paint…

He feels Dan sit up, pulling on his arms and dragging him with him. They stare at each other for a moment before Dan envelopes him in a large hug. Confused, Barry tentatively brings his hands up and pats his back. Dan laughs, squeezing a little harder.

\---

**Prompt: barry freaks out the morning after he and dan have sexy times for the first time. dan settles all his doubts while being a huge dork in the process.**

The light trickles in through the blinds. Barry can see the red of his eyelids, but refuses to admit to himself it’s morning. He shuts his eyes tighter, willing the light to go away, begging his body to sleep a little while longer.

He feels the bed shift and he freezes. Who’s in his bed? Wait, is this his bed? Whose bed is this? He feels the sheets—they’re not his… The memories of the previous night come flooding in.

_"Ah—, Dan—"_

_"Ngh, Barry.."_

His eyes shoot open, the embarrassment fresh in his mind. Chagrin races through his system, he can feel his throat close up and his stomach flip over on itself. He’s in Dan’s bed. He takes a mental stock of himself; same Barry only with mild back pain, and also completely naked. He curls up a little tighter, hoping Dan’s not awake, wishing he can just pretend he didn’t wake up. Maybe he can sneak out, before Dan wakes up? And this can all be some sort of weird fever dream?

He slowly pulls the blanket away from his body, the sheets crinkling with the effort. He cringes as the blanket runs over his skin; a jarring reminder that yes, he is still naked. He looks over at Dan. He’s turned towards Barry, his eyes closed and his breathing is even. Barry assumes he’s safe and sits up.

Two hands snake around his waist and pull him back down on the bed. Barry lets out a little yelp as Dan’s arms encircle him, dragging him towards his chest. Barry struggles, wiggling around in his grasp. Dan laughs, Barry flush against him.

"Your struggle is pointless!" He says in an epic voice, "Submit to me, fool!" Dan continues chuckling, but Barry keeps moving, keeps trying to leave.

"Hey," Dan doesn’t release his hold, but loosens up, allowing Barry to shimmy away from him. He looks over his shoulder at his face; it’s bright red. "What’s up, are you OK?" Dan removes his arms completely and Barry jerks away from him, turning around to face him. His face is determined, but distraught.

"Barry," Danny starts, propping himself up on his elbow, "What’s going on?" Dan’s heart sinks in his chest. Does he regret it? Does he hate him now? Fuck, he’s probably in pain and not Dan’s hurt him and he’s fucked up and… Dan runs a hand down his face.

Barry watches the emotions spread across Dan’s features like a slide show, each one showing for only a second before another more anxious expression takes its place. Barry should probably say something, but how does he put it in words? He takes a deep breath, and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Dan interrupts his thoughts.

"Hey, it’s cool, I get it." Dan sighs, looking down at the sheets, "We don’t have to do this again. I’m sorry, Barry." Dan’s eyes never meet his, constantly focused on anything other than his face. Barry won’t talk to him again, they’ll never do this again, they’ll avoid each other until the lease is up and then— Dan’s heart wrenches in his chest, he doesn’t want to think about it…

"But, you don’t get it!" Barry says suddenly, making Dan jump, "It’s not like that it’s—" Barry chokes on his words and takes another minute to recollect. 

"You don’t get it. It’s not that I didn’t… Enjoy myself…" Barry’s cheeks flush. He turns away from Dan and opts for laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "You’re… You. You’re fucking perfect, and amazing and," Barry lets out a frustrated sigh and runs a hand through his hair before continuing. "Last night was, just, surreal and I know that you’re not…" Not what? In to dudes? In to him? Barry covers his face with both of his hands, "Don’t…like, feel pressured to do this… Or whatever…" Barry’s hands press harder in to his face. There’s no way this could have worked out. This was just one time. One mistake. A red mark in their ledgers. Barry feels the sting in the back of his eyes and tries to ignore it.

He feels Dan shift, presumably to get out of bed. Barry braces for the awkward ‘get out’ talk, but is instead greeted with the feeling of Dan straddling his hips.

Dan pulls his fingers off of his face one by one, counting.

Dan pulls back one finger. ”One, you’re cute.” He pulls back another, “Two, you’re too hard on yourself and think too highly of me.” Another, “Three, you are a great kisser.” Barry flushes and tries to retract his fingers, but Dan stops him.

"I’m counting to ten and there’s nothing you can do about it! So, listen up!" Dan laughs a bit, grasping the three fingers he already successfully subtracted. 

"Four, you have an amazing beard." He runs his stray hand down his jaw for effect, "Five, you’re really good at your job and everything you do." With one hand full of fingers, Barry’s finally looks at Dan, sitting above him like a statue. Dan lets go of his fingers and Barry pulls his other hand off of his face, reaching up and running his hands down Dan’s chest—but Dan’s not done counting. "Six, you’re really good with your hands." Dan groans slightly as Barry spreads his fingers across his chest, "Seven, when you get overwhelmed you don’t moan, you writhe." Dan leans closer to him, resting his lips on the shell of his ear, "Eight, you’re sexy when you come." He feels Barry shudder beneath him. "Nine, I like being on top of you." He licks the lobe of his ear, biting softly before trailing small kisses along his jaw and to his neck. "And ten," Dan licks a trail from his collarbone to his neck, "You let me fuck you," He lightly nips the skin on Barry’s neck before taking it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bruising skin, mumbling against his skin "And it’s fucking great."

Barry takes a sharp intake of breath, letting it out in a slow shudder. Somehow he’s no longer mortified, just extremely turned on.


	7. Backstage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from anon and the amazingly lovely Tumblr user 6reen6ables6irl!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so wonderful. <3

**Prompt: Fluffy Danny and Barry at the movies!**

So maybe Paranormal Activity wasn’t the best movie to go see.

Barry’s sitting with a bucket of popcorn in his lap, but he can’t eat it. His arm is immobilized by Dan’s face buried deep in to his neck. His hand is glued to the arm rest, both of Dan’s larger hands pinning it there. He’s squealing with every loud noise, every bump, every flash of light. 

The people behind them purposefully kick Barry’s seat, an attempt to try and get Dan to shut up. What they don’t realize is Barry can’t control Dan. He’s 32 years old and deathly afraid of scary movies, in particularly jump scares—Barry’s not sure what he expected.

Dan’s fingers claw at Barry’s until he lifts them off the arm rest, Dan entwining them in his own, squeezing hard. Barry feels the blush creep on to his face. Sure, they’ve been dating a while now, but these public displays of affection always throw him off kilter. He feels the hot flush roll across his cheeks and down his neck. The movie is peanuts compared to the feeling of Dan’s breath ghosting across his neck as he breathes in crazy spastic puffs. Barry would be worried that he’d asphyxiate himself if it wasn’t for the rapid pace of his heart beat through his palm. 

Barry feels the cold sweat running down Dan’s forehead, dripping on to his neck. He’s seriously freaked. Barry turns toward him as much as he can. He’s faced with a forest of hair, sticking up in even more directions than normal; the curls displaying Dan’s distress better than his screeches of fear. Barry laughs, which jars Dan out of his frightened stance long enough to loosen his grip—until a poltergeist moves a chair on screen and then it’s back buried deep in the safety of Barry’s collarbone.

He needs a distraction. Something to take his mind off of this over priced heart attack. Barry swallows back the lump in his throat—it’s so embarrassing, but he has to do it—he has to do it for Dan.

He kisses the top of Dan’s head; a light feathery kiss that only lasts a moment, long enough for Dan to feel it’s sincerity, before Barry turns away hastily, eyes glued to the silver screen.

He feels Dan pick his head up and look at him, their faces level. Dan watches the colors dance off Barry’s face, the terrifying cinematography glancing off his features in beautiful ways. Dan smiles, forgetting his white knuckled fear, and returns the sweet kiss with a peck on the cheek. Barry shyly turns back to Dan—it totally worked.

Going off of his sudden adrenaline Barry leans in to Dan, taking his lips in his own. He feels the tension drain from Dan’s body; his fingers relaxing and his mouth pulling in to a smile. The sounds of the movie are forgotten as Barry runs his hands through Dan’s curly mane, smoothing out his distress. It’s a slow kiss, mouths slowly melting together in a drawn out dance, leaving both of them breathless.

A groan from behind them breaks them out of their long kiss; the memory of where they are and their inappropriate actions repelling them against one another. Barry’s face flushes with chagrin, but looking over at the goofy smile on Dan’s face, he knows it was worth his temporary mortification.

\---

**Prompt: And another prompt because I had a brainwave: Sexy rockstar Danny and awkward fan Barry, backstage/green room shenanigans ensue!**

He’s backstage. He shouldn’t be here. He’s always been in the crowd, always been the one pressed painfully against the guard rail; the lights shining brightly in his eyes. Watching him dance across the stage, listening to the angelic tune of his voice—the bruises were a small price to pay for the opportunity to see him so close, to maybe be graced with a drop of his sweat; it’s always been worth it. Even with his perfect attendance backstage isn’t a place for a creepy, borderline stalker, obsessive fan.

Barry shifts awkwardly on his heels, unsure of what to do. There’s no chairs, there’s almost no room to stand; he’s in the middle of a small hallway and people constantly push past him with large pieces of equipment and other important looking things—how they manage he’ll never know. A secret of showbiz he supposes.

The old walls are covered in illegible graffiti, some of it is obvious autographs and names of bands, but there’s the occasional penis that makes Barry tense up, a blush coloring his cheeks; he has to turn away almost immediately to avoid any embarrassment—not like there’s anyone to catch him staring at a dick.

He told him to wait outside his dressing room, a very nondescript door near the back of the club; he’s not even sure this is the right door. There’s about seven black doors from here to the bathroom, but ‘black door near the bathroom’ is the only thing he had to go on. The only thing different about this door is there’s a “D” with a crudely drawn star next to it; it has to be his door. If it’s not he’s royally fucked up… um… whatever it is he’s gotten himself in to.

Before he can think on it more the door swings open. It’s him. He’s standing there in his loose black pants, and signature leather jacket; his hair a crazy mess from preforming. Barry’s mouth goes dry. He’s never seen him so close. Never dared to even know what he might smell like—it’s strawberries by the way. He smells like strawberries and sex. 

Barry doesn’t have time to bask in the warm glow of Danny Sexbang, however. He’s pulled in to the dressing room almost as soon as it’s open; his arm nearly yanked out of his socket by the frantic rock star. Barry’s mind is taken away from him, left in the hallway to stew on what’s happened and why he’s there. As soon as Dan closes the door behind him all inhibitions leave him. 

Dan’s lips are upon him in seconds, greedily lapping at his mouth with an unfathomable need. Barry melts, sinking in to the spontaneous kiss with more fervor than he thought he could muster. Why is this happening? Why is he—oh God, he’s good with his tongue. Barry wraps his arms around his neck, dangling uselessly from his tall form. It feels like hours before Dan pulls only millimeters away from his face.

"You’re always there, in the crowd, always in front," Dan breathes on to his lips, pushing aside his leather jacket and letting it fall to the floor, "I watch you. I see you staring at me. Do you like what you see?"

Barry’s unable to form words and is reduced to just nodding lazily against his lips, mouth open; hungry for the continuation. Dan crushes his mouth to his, pushing him further in to the door, placing his forearms on either side of his head. Barry feels Dan’s leg sneak in between his, his thigh pushing upwards in to his crotch. Barry writhes against him, wishing for more.

Dan reaches under Barry’s arms and pulls his shirt up, making him detach his arms from around his neck to pull it all the way off. Barry quickly takes the opportunity to yank off Dan’s shirt, caught up in the momentum of Danny’s spontaneity.

"Eager," Danny laughs, pulling at his own belt, "I can dig that." Dan takes his belt off, throwing it on the floor. Barry’s so caught up in the vision of Dan undressing in front of him he doesn’t notice Dan’s hands wander to his own belt, unraveling it with ease.

Dan grabs Barry’s leg and hooks his arm around it, bringing their crotches closer together, leaning down in to him and grinding slowly. Barry can feel their hard-ons brush against one another through the layers of jean; he moans loudly, leaning in to his shoulder to silence himself.

"No," Dan breathes, grabbing Barry’s chin with his free hand and jerking his face towards him, "I want to know what kind of sounds you make." He brings their lips together, forcing his tongue inside the warmth of Barry’s mouth. Barry whimpers in to their kiss, allowing the feeling of Dan’s dominating lips to capture all of his embarrassing noises. Dan groans as their strained dicks rub against one another; the incomplete feeling frustrating him to his very core. Barry senses Dan’s tension and quickly forces both of their pants down, pulling out his cock before grabbing for Dan’s. With his cock free from its confines Dan groans with the sweet contact, leaning his temple against Barry’s mouthing incoherent words against his ear. Barry flushes but continues, persuaded on by Dan’s silent serenade.

He brings them together, keeping them in both of his hands he slowly pumps them both; the friction painfully sweet. The tips come together, the slick precum making them slip past each other in sharp movements. He can feel Dan thrust up in to his hand, desiring more contact. Barry obliges, bucking up as much as he can with his leg held up; he can feel Dan grip his thigh harder, his nails digging in through the jeans. Their motions turn frantic as they reach their tipping point; Dan’s breathing hard on Barry’s neck. Barry can feel himself falling over the edge, coming hard in time with Dan.

"A-ah, Danny—" Barry chokes out before Dan’s lips cover his own again, swallowing all his residual moans.

Barry can feel the vibrations of a rapid fire knock resonating from the door. Dan leans in to Barry and groans, licking the tight skin of his neck before shouting at the intruder.

"Yes?!" He half-yells; obviously a little frustrated. A large voice booms back that they have things to do, to which Danny responds by flipping off the door. Barry is mortified; sitting here with one leg up, chest covered in cum. The look on his face must have been perfect because as soon as Danny looks down he laughs, kissing the corner of his worried mouth.

Dan throws him a towel, also cleaning himself up and pulling up his own pants in the process. Barry tentatively wipes at his chest, watching Dan pull on a shirt and run a hand through his hair; the follicles always falling in to perfect sex hair. Barry pulls on his shirt with much less finesse and fumbles with his belt until he can calm himself down enough to fasten the suddenly difficult clasp.

Barry feels a pit form in his stomach as he brushes his hair down with his fingers. It was so fast, so quick—he probably does this all the time. It doesn’t mean anything. How can he come to shows now? What is he going to do now that he can’t show his face around this perfect creature he’s lusted after for so long? His heart falls and twists in his chest, the painful combination causing a grimace to spread across his face. Before he can wallow in more self pity, he feels Dan’s hand on his chin again, forcing his face to meet his. Danny’s just smirking, looking down at him , scoffing.

"Stop it," Danny says before pulling Barry in to a large hug, wrapping his arms low around his waist. Barry snaps out of his own self loathing to hug him back, squeezing harder than he should have in his nervousness. When their bodies part Danny’s smiling. "What’s your name?" 

"Barry." He lets out a short laugh, a small breath through his nose. He never even gave him his name. Dan’s still smiling.

"OK Barry, will you be at the next show?" Danny asks, cocking his head slightly to the side.

"Yeah, of course." Barry chuckles a little bit, giddy at the prospect of being welcomed back. 

"See you then." Danny smiles and opens the door, "No interruptions next time, promise." He doesn’t turn around and leaves the door open as he walks down the hall. Barry rushes through the threshold, watching his retreating form as his lips stretch in to a toothy grin.

—-

As he walks to his car he reaches in his back pocket for his keys. Pulling them out a piece of paper flutters on to the concrete.

"Call me. 555-XXX-6XXX Danny S."

He most definitely will.

\---

**Prompt: suzy finds out about dan and barry and teases barry mercilessly about it, like the awesome best bro she is.**

They’re filming and both Dan and Barry are being sneaky little bastards.

She’s recognizing the pattern. First Dan gets up, using a frail excuse; such as having to pee or getting a drink. A few moments pass before Barry decides he should get up as well, mumbling a quiet ‘be right back’ before disappearing out of the room. They just did it again for the third time. She senses the ruse, knows something is going on behind the scenes—and she’s determined to squeeze it all out of Barry.

Suzy and Barry have a special relationship; they gravitated towards each other as the Grumps in the shadows, always collaborating together and working with each other to improve Game Grumps—it’s only natural that they’d become friends. It became a brother-sister relationship; so close they feel like they can tell each other basically everything and confide in one another. The normal quiet Barry opens up to her about almost everything and she in turn relays her woes to Barry. It’s a healthy friendship that is really being tested with this whole suspicious Dan thing.

She’s afraid to bring it up first; she doesn’t want to upset a friend but at the same time her curiosity is literally killing her. Every time they leave the room she has to hold down the temptation to followed their costumed asses to where ever it is they’re going and get to the bottom of this mystery. 

Super sleuth Suzy is on the case!

Maybe. She wants Barry to open up to her in his own time, so the idea of stalking him down and forcing him puts a bad taste in her mouth. After a long five minutes of deliberation Suzy decides to ask him later, at her house, where he can’t escape.

—-

Barry’s in the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear; happily getting a glass of water, his face flushed, and his hair a mess. They just went on break about ten minutes ago; Arin’s out getting coffee and she’s wrist deep in miscellaneous Game Grumps shit—why does he get to be so jovial? What’s going on?! She has to know.

"Barry," she says, not looking up from her laptop, "What’s going on with you and Dan?" She glances up from her laptop and pointedly raises an eyebrow in his direction.

Barry turns around slowly, holding the glass of water in both hands. His face is pale, almost stark white. Suzy almost feels bad for bringing it up—almost.

Barry clears his throat, banging on his chest a few times with his fist—attempting to find his voice. “Nothing?” Barry answers, unsure of himself and of the reason why the question was asked. He coughs a bit in to his fist; he can hardly take Suzy’s deadly stare.

"Nothing my butt, Barry!" Suzy almost yells, agitated and fed up with bullshit. She’s been tip toeing around this crap for weeks, the truth or bust! 

"I see the way you look at each other, Barry. How you guys sneak out together." Suzy continues, using her fingers to indicate two people walking away together. She closes her laptop with a loud snap, "You can’t fool me, dude! I know something is going on and you’re going to tell me what or else!" She points an accusing finger at him, leaning forward in her seat looking at menacing as possible.

Barry swallows, fidgeting nervously with his glass. Suzy watches the sweat form on his brow, the way he shifts from one leg to another like he’s ready to get the hell out of there. Suzy’s death glare keeps him firmly planted in the middle of their living room. He spins his glass around in his hands a few times and takes a deep breath before answering.

"I’m not really sure what we are." Barry mumbles more in to his glass than to Suzy. Suzy’s taken back a bit, straightening up in her seat and lowering her hand. "Is there even a label for what we do?" Barry sighs, turning his head away from Suzy. Shit, she hit a land mine. A soft concern replaces her irritated grimace and Suzy pats the couch cushion next to her, beckoning Barry to sit down. Barry begrudgingly sits down, sinking in to the cushions, his glass of water resting between his legs. He lets out a long sigh, unprepared for the onslaught of questions Suzy will undoubtedly have for him.

Suzy sits there quiet, unsure what to ask first. It’s obvious her friend is in pain, but how can you help someone when you have no idea what’s wrong? She stares at his blank, solemn expression and feels her heart twist in her chest. She throws an arm around Barry and pushes him closer to her, resting their sides against one another. Barry tenses, but allows the gentle touch; the bitter sweet feeling of being comforted. Suzy gathers her thoughts for a while before she speaks.

"Whatever it is," Suzy begins, letting out a little  _'hmm'_  of thought before continuing, “It seems really nice?” Suzy nudges Barry softly, smiling down at him. Barry can’t help but smile and lightly rock back in to her.

"Yeah. It’s nice." Barry lets out a breathy laugh through his nose, remembering something Suzy can’t even begin to think about. She only has one more question.

"Do you like him?"

Barry stops smiling for a moment, a look of pure concentration covering his features. He has to take a long pause before answering.

"Yeah." He half smiles, snorting a bit, "Yeah, I like him a lot."

Suzy smiles and wraps her other arm around him in a side hug. She feels his hands rest on her forearm and squeeze, reciprocating the awkward couch hug. She pulls away from him and pats his shoulder.

"I’m here to talk if you need me." She smiles and shoos Barry off the couch, "Now go edit something!"

Barry gives her a soft smile before disappearing back down the hallway to the Grump room. Dan’s laughter floats up the hallway a few moments later; with her curiosity sated she’s pretty sure everything is going to be fine.


	8. Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unhappy face drabble brought to you by my brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling sad.  
> Can you tell?  
> Suggested listening: Skyhill

He’s with her again. He can hear them in the living room—giggling; undoubtedly laughing about something witty Dan said or something _cute_ she did. Barry feels the bile rise to the back of this throat, his stomach tensing in painful ways.

It hurts; he can’t pretend it doesn’t. He’s so happy with her. They like each other so much. But wasn't he happy before her? When it was just them? When they were together all the time? He agonizes over it; how can he accept this new addition and move on? Why can’t he get over it?

He sits in his room, his laptop perched on his lap and his headphones resting around his neck. The gusts of a storm blow against his window, already hindering his audio of the conversation outside his door. He can’t bring himself to put his headset on his ears; to play music and drown out the noise-- he has to know what’s happening—has to know what they’re doing. The idea of something transpiring between them is so unpleasant he can’t bring himself to look up from his laptop.

When will he be OK with this? He wants to be there for Dan, to be happy for his friend and be by his side, but... He grimaces; it won't ever be like it was. They'll never go back.

_\---_

“Barry!” Dan runs up to him, arms out, grinning. He smiles back and opens his arms, ready to accept Dan’s enveloping hug. Dan's long arms wrap around him completely; his face shoved in to the nook of his collarbone. He smells like cologne and the old leather of his jacket. Dan buries his face in his hair, his lips pressing a quick, small kiss on the top of his head. Barry can feel the heat rush to his face; his cheeks undoubtedly red. He does this all the time—why does his body react this way despite the fact he knows it's just friendly? He can never hide his feelings; he can never shove them deep down in his subconscious—they’re always at the surface, scratching their way past his well-placed mask. Dan pulls away first, he always does. His hands linger on Dan’s back, coming away slowly. Dan rests his hands on his shoulders, he’s still smiling.

“Barry!” He repeats again, a little breathless. “You will never guess what happened.” He smiles a little wider, if that’s even possible. The crinkles on the side of his eyes deepen more; laugh lines show around his mouth—it’s beautiful.

He shakes his head and urges Dan to continue; just wanting to hear him talk about anything, everything. He can’t get enough of his voice-- of him. Dan laughs and rubs his arm.

That’s when he told him about her; about the girl he met and how much they get along; how he likes her and he can’t wait to see her again. He tells Barry everything, from their faithful first encounter to their first date, which is apparently soon. Barry feels the tight smile spread across his lips, forced and excruciating. Dan goes in to detail, describing how she looks, how she talks, how she dresses—everything without taking a breath. He was reduced to gesturing wildly with his hands, attempting to appropriately accent his excitement and the wonderfulness of it all.

Barry forgets how to breathe. He listens intently, like he always does. Nodding once in a while and taking in everything he says;  smiling through gritted teeth— jaw tight and unmoving.

 _‘Stop!’_ He wants to shove Dan away, he wants to yell, ‘ _—can’t you see how uncomfortable I am?! Can’t you see how much this hurts me?!’_ But he can't. He can't do that to him. He has to listen, has to hide this burning, caustic pain creeping up his spine. His head swims in the piercing ocean of Dan's words. His can feel his lungs give out. He can feel himself drowning.

_\---_

The light giggles of laughter wafting from the living room slowly stop. The following silence is deafening; the myriad of scenarios flowing through his mind like a video on repeat; each play is more and more painful.

Moments pass before he hears the door of Dan’s room close. He closes his eyes against the onslaught of terrible feelings that well in the pit of his stomach. He can hear his pulse pounding behind his ears, but his body shivers with sudden cold. He closes his eyes tight, breathing in carefully paced breaths, attempting to stay calm.

He has to get out of here; he has to leave. He can’t sit here and torture himself—but his legs are frozen. He feels the suffocating air of their apartment strangle him, immobilizing him. The pangs of jealously creeping in to his arms and legs, willing him to stay there; if he stays maybe he can guilt Dan, maybe he can get them to break up just with his presence in the adjacent room…

Barry rests his face in the palms of his hands. When did he become such a vile, disgusting person? He feels his heart wrench in his chest when the sound of bodies resting on a mattress travels through the walls. He looks up at the ceiling, blinking several times in to the blinding light of his room before standing up.

He grabs his keys, phone and jacket; idly texting Suzy as he walks out the door. The wind howling through the apartment building drowns out any residual sounds he might have heard. His legs work against him, shaking, jerking, trying to turn him around, trying to tell him he shouldn’t leave them alone—' _It shouldn’t be her! It should be me; it should be me...'_

He stands at the door to his building, staring at the parking lot, listening to the bristling of the branches. As soon as he feels his phone vibrate in his hands he walks out of the building.  

He closes the door behind himself, bracing against the harsh wind; allowing the whipping air to sting his eyes, trails of tears staining his wind burned face.


	9. One Barrysta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompt for a coffee house AU!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about chaptering this! Please take this as an apology for the sad previous chapter.

The line snakes out the door. The morning is always the busiest time for a coffee shop; cranky people craving their pick me up. Barry leans to the left and right of his post at the cash register between customers, trying to get a feel of how long this day is really going to be. From what he can, or rather, cannot see— infinitely long.

He started working at this small time coffee shop about a month ago, before he realized he has no talent for making coffee. His only job is to be posted strictly at the register to avoid any exploding expressos or messy mochas. It’s not like he’s a skilled barista or has any real notable work experience in the food industry—he never said he could craft a two pump, skinny, caramel, mocha…thing! He only got this job because his friend’s parents owned the swanky, hip little coffee shop. It’s a decidedly niche cafe close to the artsy district in NYC. Most of the people who come in here are poor college kids who can’t afford Starbucks, or busy working class people who hate the rich college kids who populate all the Starbucks. It’s not his ideal job—far from it. He just needed some extra cash and since he can only really work during break, he has to make some real money now or else starve next semester.

The register is old, and he means old. His chosen weapon is an ancient IBM piece of crap from the late 80’s, running off of dust and salvaged parts that are also from the late 80’s. He has to press the faded, sticky buttons a few times before he can successfully ring up a small Americano and even more times to run a credit card. In the modern age of ‘scan your phone to pay’ and instant credit features, this thing is a fossil in the most extreme way—two minutes to run a card and strictly cash on some days. Customers tap their feet and smack their lips waiting for the old girl to puff out a receipt and Barry has to apologize for her rusty bones and coaxes the old girl to keep going. He affectionately named her Doris and refuses to let anyone rush her or put her down—they have a special bond. When it’s a particularly busy day like today he’ll occasionally rub her side and coo, “It’s OK Doris, take your time.” in an attempt to avoid a melt down of register-wrecking proportions. She’s very sensitive you know.

The atmosphere follows the tune of the register, outdated and pushing extinction. It’s like the old coffee places you see in movies with the big, plush arm chairs, some couches and real wooden tables—complete with splinters and cracking finish. The walls bare except for the occasional black and white painting of a saxophone or other brass instrument. The casual, swanky jazz that drifts from the speakers can only barely be heard over the constant buzzing of customers; talking in to their cellphones, talking to themselves on Bluetooth, only noticing him when they half scream their order right at his face. Although the cafe attempts to be relaxed the customer base does not reflect its intentions.

An angry blonde woman approaches the counter, adjusting her large black bag with a large shoulder shrug. She sighs heavily before staring intently at the menu board. Most customers do this; they’ll come up to the register with absolutely no idea what they want to order—regardless of how long they just stood in line with nothing else to look at but the menu. It’s what makes the line so long and it’s what makes Barry so agitated he gnaws on the inside of his lip, pulling at the extra skin with his front teeth, creating pills of skin to slowly peel back in agonizingly slow draws. After pulling off two lines of skin and an eternity later, the woman grunts and slams her bag on the counter. Classy.

"Yeah, I’ll have a…" she scoffs, "Gawd, don’t you people just have normal coffee??" she sighs and projects her order in his general direction, "…the largest coffee you have, as black as you can get it as soon as possible." She fishes out three crumpled dollars from the bottom of her endless bag and throws them toward Barry, leaving him a generous tip of three cents. How kind of her. He punches the blank buttons a few times before the drawer flies—out of all of the register’s components, the spring that releases the drawer is by far the strongest piece; it thrusts forward as violently as the day she was made.

The customer swishes past him in a flurry of hair and perfume, continuing her ‘rudely interrupted’ conversation with herself. Squinting he can barely make out the blue glow of her Bluetooth under layers of permed hair, but he wasn’t going to doubt that she enjoys her own company enough to talk to it. When she’s sufficiently far away from the counter Barry shakes his head and throws the three pennies in to the tip container. He knows it’s only going to get worse. Once one customer decides to be angry and rude as shit the rest are soon to follow, like a herd—if one of them is angry for no reason, might as well also be angry for no reason and take it out on the first human you come in contact with who is considered below you. 

Barry sighs and braces for a shitty day, greeting the next guest with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. He shrugs his shoulders and readies for the next order. He hears a slight chuckle and jerks his head up, is someone laughing at him? He puts on his  _'excuse me?'_  city-glare, his fingers still poised angrily over the dilapidated buttons.

"God, people like that are the worst." The laugh floats through his words like a song. A guy stands on the other side of the counter, shaking his head. "I’m sorry you had to deal with that man." A small smile creeps on to his lips, the laugh lines around his eyes creasing in to a genuine expression. Barry’s heart leaps in to his throat. He’s tall, super tall, at least a foot taller than him and crazy thin. He’s made even taller by the extra two inches his hair gives him, sticking up in all directions as if he just came in from a wind storm. Butterflies seep in to his stomach, crawling down his throat. He’s oddly attractive, something about him is confident and appealing, drawing Barry to him. Something about how he’s sympathetic to his situation and how he just seems to get his shitty job in this shitty city… He watches him in awe. He sees his mouth move, he’s ordering. Crap, Barry wasn’t listening.

"W-what was that?" Barry asks, blinking a few times and leaning forward, knocking in to the register in the process and making it chime. He hears his laugh again, bubbling up through his throat. Barry’s face flushes, he can feel the hot heat building on his face and knows he’s making a complete fool out of himself.

"A small coffee please, Barry." He smiles a wide, comforting smile, looking straight at Barry, right in to his eyes. How does he know his name? Barry’s heart jumps and he reflexively jams his finger down on to the register, the cash drawer flying open with gusto and hitting him right in the stomach. He lets out a slight ‘ _oof_ ’, thrown off balance by the sudden onslaught of ancient technology. He hears the melodic beauty of his laugh again, “Today is not your day, man.” 

Flustered, Barry uses both hands to close the drawer and smiles shyly. Of course he knows his name, it’s on his name tag—the thing pinned to his uniform to allow customers the opportunity to refer to him as such. He’s just swept up that’s all—it’s just because he has a nice voice and a nice smile—he inwardly groans. Why do the tall skinny ones always get him? ‘ _Just calm down,_ ' he thinks, giving himself a mental pep talk. ' _Take his order, and then let him melt in to the crowd of the city just like all the other ones…_ ' He grabs a cup off of the shelf and clears his throat before asking him for his name.

"Dan." He says, still looking right at him, never breaking that contact for a moment. Barry freezes up, he can feel his shoulders scrunch, locking up; it takes his entire concentration to make his fingers work. ‘He’s just a nice guy’ he tells himself, ‘ _He’s just being nice to you because he’s nice. He’s just nice. God he’s so nice.._.’  
  
It takes forever, but he finally scrawls his short name on to the cup. It looks all wrong in his nervous handwriting and he has the urge to rewrite it. The line grows dangerously longer the more he fumbles around. He pushes his fluttering heart down, out of his throat and turns around filling his cup with steaming coffee, something even he is capable of doing. When he turns back Dan’s fishing out a five dollar bill. They trade, their hands sliding against one another in accidental contact. Barry has to resist the urge to pull his hand back quickly—he has soft hands. Barry clumsily gives him his change; noticing as Dan slips a dollar fifty in to the tip jar—he winks.

"Thanks a lot, Barry." He says with a final smile before turning around and disappearing out of Barry’s line of sight. Barry spends the next few moments clutching Doris and remembering how to breathe.


	10. Barrysta Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pew pew!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more of this! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've liked writing it!  
> andante-ace made some wonderful Barrista (or Barrysta) fan art on Tumblr! Check it out, it's really good!  
> If you ever make fan art of anything I write be sure to tag me in it so I can reblog it and type in all caps how much I love it.  
> Spoiler alert: it's a lot.  
> A big, moist thank you to everyone who likes, kudos, comments, reblogs and reads my work. Seriously, I do this me, but I also do it for you guys and it means a lot to me that you're all still here!

When it’s slow the owners let him drag out his school books and work on his winter projects. Not many professors give out this kind of work because of unpredictable class enrollment, but he got the luck of the draw this semester. Three of his future instructors want papers from them within the first week of class. And not a one page, simple summary number, no— a five page analysis on small chapter of his five hundred dollar text book that is so vague he ends up giving up on his text book and looking it up on Google on his phone. He hasn’t gotten that far though and is currently attempted to make sense of a particularly boring, long winded paragraph. As he underlines semi-helpful words and phrases in light pencil his mind can’t help but wander. It’s boring work and soon he’s glancing around the shop, trying to find anything remotely interesting to concentrate on—anything other than this crap. He chews on the end of his eraser, a gross habit formed in his first semester of college. It helps him think but it also makes his mouth super eraser-flavored and dry.  
  
His pencil chewing is the only thing to distract him from thinking about him. He pops up in his mind every day. He anticipates seeing the messy mop of curls over the crowd of boring crew cuts and side sweeping bangs; the butterflies in his stomach go in to a frenzy just thinking about his tall, lanky form coming through the door. He can feel his throat constrict just remembering their first encounter a few days ago; it threw him off for the rest of his shift and was rendered so useless he had to go on dishes. While washing every dish he would replay the scene over and over in his head, face flushing with remembered embarrassment. He’d have to stop washing just to scrunch his shoulders and bury his chin in his chest, attempting to run away from his anxious memories. Even now as he thinks about it he inwardly cringes; could he have been any more awkward? He tries to think of a worse situation and can’t.

He repeats his name in his mind over and over, “Dan, Dan, Dan…” When he comes in again, he’ll be natural; he’ll say, “Hey Dan, what’s up?” Maybe he’ll wave, or maybe he’ll be all cool and stoic, leaning on the counter nonchalantly. He puts down his pencil and tries it, propping his elbow on Doris, leaning on to his arm and resting his chin in his hands. Nope, this is an awkward position… He tries a different one, resting his forearms on the counter in front of his book and leaning forward. The scene plays in his mind; Dan walks in, throwing him one of those brilliant smiles, showing all of his teeth—his bright eyes crinkling along the edges— **abort, abort** , too flustered; can’t continue.

He tries again, making a mental note to not think too much about his smile, or his eyes, or his height or his—OK, focus Barry. He needs to be cool, he needs to be like Clint Eastwood in his old westerns or something; a smooth talker. He always got all the boys… He laughs at himself. It’s so ridiculous, but it’s worth a shot. He pushes his book off to the side and leans on to the counter with his right arm. He snaps his left hand in to a finger gun and practices his name again.

"Hey there Dan," He says, drawling a little bit as if he’s really a pistol-wielding cowboy in a western movie. He fires his finger gun with a small "pew" noise before pretending to twirl it around in his hand and holstering it in his finger gun holster, also known as his pocket. He pulls it out again, quick draw! He pulls his thumb back, cocking the deadly finger weapon. He shoots it again, imagining hitting him right in the heart with his cupid’s bullet. "Howdy there, Dan," he says again, his accent thicker and more ridiculous. He cocks his gun again, aiming with his other hand, ready to fire. He quickly whips around and turns towards the cafe— or rather at the crotch belonging to the customer at his counter—oh, when did they get there? 

"Well hey there, Barry." They laugh, copying his western drawl. He knows that laugh.

He flings his body backwards, slamming straight in to the coffee machine behind him. It shakes and groan with the sudden impact, Barry stays completely still until it makes a coffee-bean-gargling screech and rattles to a stop. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with his body. He wrenches his eyes away from the assaulted coffee maker, coming face to face with Dan. Holy crap. He just saw that. He just heard that. Oh God what the hell. He’s smiling, why is he smiling? He’s holding up a finger gun too, steadying it with his other hand. He fires it at Barry, lifting his hand up slightly as if it really fired and had kicked back. Barry’s still plastered against the battered machinery, too stunned to move.

"Looks like you were too slow, Barry." He says his name again and he’s stunned still. He’s going along with it; how is he not mortified by that odd, western showdown? How is Dan not creeped out hearing his name come out of his mouth in such a casual way? Does he think that Barry saw him and was just playing around? Is he just going along with it not to embarrass him? He’s too nice, too kind, too sweet. Barry’s heart beats fast in his chest, choking his throat, but he forces himself to find the words and choke out his practiced script.

"H-hey t-there Dan," he stutters, peeling himself off of the coffee machine. He’ll have to apologize to it later. He positions himself back in front of Doris and stares at Dan—he’s still smiling. "What would you like… to have… today?" Was that too friendly? Was that implying that he expects him to come back tomorrow? Was that too question-y? He’s over thinking things, he knows he is, but he’s blowing it and really doesn’t want to… He can feel the sweat pool in the palms of his hands and resists the urge to wipe it on his jeans. He watches as Dan also holsters his finger pistol in his back pocket before ordering.

"Yeah, man. A small coffee if you don’t mind." He starts pulling out his wallet and Barry grabs a medium cup off of the stack. He uses the time it takes to write his name on the cup to his advantage, looking down and away from his gaze. It’s too overwhelming; he knows his face is red and he can feel his watchful eyes on him as he writes. He’s too perfect, rolling with his weird scenario like that, making him feel so accepted. He scrawls a hasty ‘Dan’ (it still looks wrong) and quickly turns around to fill it. The machine squeals in protest, but eventually lets loose a stream of coffee. When he turns around Dan’s holding out exact change for his drink. They exchange currency for goods and services easily enough with minimal contact this time. Barry’s heart falls a bit, he was actually a little excited to feel his hands again…

Doris thrusts open with gusto and Barry quickly catches her with his free hand, throwing the money inside before closing her gently. Dan watches with what seems like interest as Barry pats her a few times before turning his head up to face Dan again. He does his tinkling laugh and smiles again—it makes Barry smile too.

"See you space cowboy…" Dan says, bringing his loaded fingers up to his face and shooting another invisible bullet at Barry before turning on his heels and walking towards the door. Barry gets that reference! The sudden realization that Dan is as nerdy as him sends a shiver up his spine and spreads goose bumps on his arms. He feels the adrenaline rush through his system. He has to say something, has to call back to him.

"I love that show!" He belts out after him; it’s a little hysterical and his voice cracks near the end. He doesn’t know what else to say—’ _you’re amazing, you’re stunning, you’re perfect, you’re too good to be true…’_  Dan turns around at the door, pushing it open with his back.

"Oh yeah?" He’s out the door, holding it open with his foot; the setting sun eclipsing his face in shadow, but Barry can tell he’s smiling. He calls back to him, "We should watch it sometime." And with that mysterious sentence, dripping with an unknown promise, he’s gone.

Barry is officially rendered unfit and unable to work on his project.


	11. Third Barrysta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan chapter!! Yeah, feelings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did take a few days after I posted the two so quickly... I work two jobs and I do this whole college thing so it's hard to find the time some days. Thanks everyone for being patient with me~

The shop is out of his way; hidden down several side streets off the main path he takes to work. He found it one day when he first started his new job and was trying to find the building nestled in the middle of the city next to all the others looking exactly the same--it's a task he enjoys taking on. He old fashioned... he guesses. He believes in organically forming a map of the city in your mind to help you understand the layout of your neighborhood better--but this shit gets him lost more times than not. In reality, he's really just embarrassed to admit he still has a 90s flip phone and can't GPS his way around New York like literally everyone else. He looks up in to the crowds of strangers as he walks with a silent determination and a smile on his face--not like anyone sees it; they're all buried in their iPhones. He's always been eager to meet new people, make connections with strangers and form unconventional friendships, but the big city doesn't foster his love for social interaction. He's usually glared at more than talked to; as soon as he opens his mouth to a passerby they cringe away from his voodoo magic and slink away back in to the pool of humanity that is the streets of New York.  
  
When he stumbled across the quaint shop he couldn't even see the store front, only the line that funneled out of the door and in to the street. The sign outside was old, previously vandalized and crudely painted over by someone who was obviously not an artist by any means. "Cafe" was scrawled over the thin brown paint and a slight outline of a tag could be seen under the lettering like an opaque over layer. Assuming the building condemned or a shit hole, he was surprised by the amount of bodies in front of it. A crowd of people gathered on the outskirts of the line just by accident and herded in to a massive road block typical of city walkers. No one in the mass, including Danny, could muster up the courage to ask what the holdup was and those stuck in the pod were too big of pussies to shove their way out, also including Danny. So, deterred from his commute from work, Danny sat there and stayed gridlocked in the crowd until the line started slowly crawling forward.  
  
Before he realized it he was inside a coffee shop being shuffled in to a line. First he noticed how dark is was inside, bleak and a tad bit dilapidated. The furniture around him was old, a thin layer of dust permanently ground in to the upholstery altering its color to be mucky for eternity. Each chair had a body in it, typing away on a laptop or flicking around on their phones. The clientele varied from much older gentlemen pensively sipping a ceramic mug of black home brew to trendy college kids with Mac books and super huge foamy situations perched next to their textbooks. He glanced at the menu board and was surprised to find an extreme variety of choices, each one more overwhelming than the last. The extensive menu jumped from normal coffee to a baguette with spinach and some sort of dipping sauce that he couldn't pronounce. The smell of fresh bread drifted through his nostrils and made his stomach gurgle despite having already eaten a balanced breakfast of Lucky Charms. The temptation to stay at the crazy, out of place shop was very tempting; if not for the fact he had no time and no money--a hindering and depressing combo. Being relatively poor for the time being he quietly stepped out of line and was about to regrettably head for the door until a deafening beeping noise caught his attention.  
  
Looking towards the source of the noise he could see a cashier, probably about college age, with his hands up in a surrendering pose in front of the register; a terrified expression plastered on his face. Fascinated about what could have happened, Dan freezes and waits for the scene to unfold. He watches as the cashier relaxes slightly, running a hand down his face, frustrated and a little overwhelmed. A girl runs over to try and help, but he waves her away quite admittedly, seemingly insisting he can handle whatever it is on his own. The girl walks away pouting and dejectedly returns to the espresso machine to continue pushing buttons. Wrenching his eyes back to the cashier he can see he's rolled up his sleeves and has the register's back pulled off. He has an apologetic look on his face and Dan assumes he's apologizing to the customer, but upon further inspection he's saying reassuring words not to the fuming woman, but to the register itself. The cashier gently rubs the side of the register, talking to it. Dan watched in awe as he lovingly stroked it and cooed at it; the sight of it was borderline crazy but somehow extremely heartwarming. In this city of strangers and glares, this guy is developing a pretty deep emotion attachment to a Point of Sale machine to the level of talking to it when it breaks or malfunctions. Danny scoffs, dumbstruck by the idea that such a tender person exists. His feet are firmly planted as he watches the rest of the interaction, which included several apologetic glances and some hard resets, which made the cashier grimace--the expression out of place on his soft features.

To the delight of the cashier the register groaned back to life and the entire line heaved a heavy sigh of relief and impatience. The cashier smiles then, a small, private smile obviously only meant for himself, but Dan saw it and he immediately falls in love with it. It lifts his cheeks dramatically, accenting his angled jaw and round cheeks. It spreads across his face, the smile reaching through and showing through his eyes-- the scenceraity of it touches the corner of his eyes, lighting his face with happiness. Unable to pull his eyes away again he watches as the long herd of customers stepped forward toward the counter and the newly cool, calm collected cashier push them through with ease--not even embarrassed that he just babied a cash register in front of twenty plus New Yorkers, which he had to admit, probably didn't even notice. The smile still lingers on his face and it takes more willpower than Dan thought he could muster to stay out of line--the need to talk to him almost winning out over poverty.  
  
Vowing to come back when he had money, Dan left the coffee shop behind to continue wandering through the streets of New York with much self restraint--the desire to march right up to the counter and demand his name almost makes his legs betray him as he walks. The streets still looked unfamiliar, but he pressed onward with new drive and ambition in his step. The revitalizing sight of human tenderness was what he needed to renew his vigor in his quest to find his place of employment. Only this time he's even more so distracted by the tender, valiant cashier at the small, hidden, out dated, out of place, obviously named coffee shop, the Cafe.


	12. Plaid Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt this Barrysta to bring you a prompt from tumblr user divinity-deos!
> 
> It's a lovely prompt that I got a LITTTTLLLEEE too invested in. Anyway, ENJOYYY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my goal: have you squirm uncomfortably in your seat at least once. <3

He runs a tired hand down his face the skin stretching around his fingers. It’s hard to sit through hours of footage sometimes; the computer screen glares back at him on long nights. It shoots unforgiving daggers of procrastination in to his eyes. With a mild headache and severe exhaustion he makes the professional decision to take an extended break.  
  
Standing up from his slouching position on the couch is no easy feat. He rocks forward and back a few times before successfully freeing himself from its comfortable clutches. Upon being upright his back twinges in protest; his head swimming in dizziness. When he recovers from the strenuous exercise of standing up he realizes he’s alone in the apartment. He calls in to the emptiness but his room mate doesn’t reply. He glances at the clock on the microwave and is a little worried about Dan’s late arrival. He assumes the worst and visions of a terrible car crash or homicidal attack fills him with fear. Or maybe he sneaked in while he was knee deep in footage and he didn’t hear him. Either way, out of concern he runs down the hallway past his room to Dan’s door, flinging it open with more gusto than he thought he could muster; flicking the light on in the process.  
  
The room is a mess. Empty, but a mess. He’s temporarily distracted by the sloppiness of his room mate, taking notice how many pieces of clothing are thrown around the room like a frenzied tornado decimated his closet. Without thinking he starts picking up discarded shirts and pants laying about the floor, using two fingertips to pick up boxers and socks. After having a nice looking pile he carries them over to the washer, dumping them in and starting a load of Dan’s laundry  
  
Satisfied he walks back to the room to marvel his handy work. He’s about to shut off the light and close to door, but a shirt on the bed catches his eye. He missed it. A little annoyed by his oversight he huffs over to retrieve it and throw it in the wash. It’s a familiar shirt, one of Dan’s favorites that he seems to wear every day it’s cold enough to. It’s black and red plaid, the material smooth and faded. He holds it in both hands and rubs it between his fingers, it’s well worn with small balls of pulled fabric every so often. It’s a tattered shirt, but it characterizes it’s wearer so well. Soft, reliable and a little worn down. Barry smiles at his likening his room mate to a piece of clothing and opens it up to its full potential. It’s actually a big shirt—what Dan lacks in width he makes up in length. The shirt is so over sized compared to the tiny frame it usually covers. He shakes it out a bit, a puff of lingering scent wafting in to his nose. Dan usually complains about his smell, saying he probably smells gross because of his infrequent hair washing, but Barry has to disagree. It’s a nice smell, a comforting smell that is so distinctive it actually makes Barry a little sad that Dan wasn’t actually there.

Out of curiosity he brings the shirt up to his nose and inhales; the clinging fragrance dancing through his nostrils. He smiles again, thinking of the last time he wore this shirt during a Grumping session. He’s always so close to Dan—working or not. He smells this smell all the time and has learned to associate it with good memories. He takes it away from his face when he thinks about how weird it has to be for anyone looking in for him to be cheek-deep in a shirt. He turns around, glancing at the door, making sure Dan didn’t just walk through it and catch him. 

Wait, catch him? Was what he was doing inherently wrong? Why would smelling a shirt be wrong? People do it all the time to see if it’s dirty enough to wash, right? If he was wearing it or something—… He thinks about it, turning the shirt over in his hands, and decides it’s a little creepy… But, you know, it’s not like it’s totally out of the ordinary or anything….

He eyes the shirt skeptically. Now he’s curious.

He glances out of the threshold again, looking back and forth down the hallway—one last check just to make sure he’s really alone. He removes his own shirt, throwing it on the floor. He knows what he’s about to do is crossing the line of normal room mate behavior, but he just can’t stop now. He puts his arms through and shrugs the shirt on, buttoning it up slowly. The buttons are smooth, the holes stretched to twice their normal size. The shirt is big on him, hanging loosely off his shoulders and laying a bit past his belt. He walks over to the mirror, adjusting it slightly. It doesn’t look as good on him as it does on Dan. Dan’s shoulders fill it more and his torso is so long that it lands perfectly above his belt. Then again, it’s also so short on him that when he raises his arms Barry can peek at the top of his boxers and the traces of stomach hair… And sometimes his hipbones peek out over the waistband and—

Barry stops, his face blotchy and red. He’s getting flustered. It’s too much to be in Dan’s shirt, in Dan’s room, smelling so much concentrated Dan. He starts to unbutton the shirt a little too fast, almost popping the top button off. Scared he might actually mar his shirt Barry slows down, taking his time. It gives him too much time to think—he finds his mind wandering in to the deepest reaches of his thoughts. How many times has Dan taken this off? Does he wear anything under it when he wears it? Does he let his bare skin touch the soft fabric and rub against his chest all day? Does Dan sleep in this sometimes—just this shirt and a pair of boxers? Barry can feel the heat creep up his face, spreading across his cheeks like a wave. He can feel himself semi hard in his jeans. A chill rushes up his spine; he has to pause mid-button. He attempts to collect himself; closing his eyes slowly and taking an unsure, deep, shaky breath. Dan’s scent clings to his throat, the suffocating aroma of his natural smell chokes him. The air staggers out of his nose, his stomach trembling, breath catching in his lungs.

The shirt is finally undone, but he can’t bring himself to take it off. He hugs his shoulders, running his trembling hands down his arms, bringing his body closer together. He reaches downward with both hands, thumbing the top of his jeans. He closes his eyes.

_Dan takes his belt in his hands and skillfully undoes it in one motion, throwing it off to the side. His hands are hard on his hips, pushing him back on to his bed. He pulls down his pants in one swift motion, taking them off fully and discarding them on the floor next to his shirt. Barry moans as he palms him through his boxers; thrusting up in to his hand. He can hear Dan’s laugh, light and floating. He can see Dan’s smile, bright and welcoming—urging him on._

_He’s about to take off the shirt, but hears him say, “No,” it whispers to him, “Keep it on.”_  The ghost of his voice tickles the shell of his ear and his eyes shoot open.

He whips his head around the room, but no one is there. It’s just him, alone with his fantasies, on Dan’s bed—his painful erection pressing against the waistband of his boxers. It’s wrong, to be in Dan’s room, to be on Dan’s bed, to wear his shirt, to think about him like this—but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s so turned on he can’t stop himself from slipping back in to his daydream. He palms himself again, throwing his head back and moaning. His boxers slip down off of his hips and they join the pile on the floor. He takes himself in a shaky hand; his breathing shallow and dizzying. He curls around himself, laying on his side. He opens his eyes and realizes he’s facing the door, which is slightly ajar, but the thrill of being caught only makes his stomach tighten in excitement. He closes them again as he buries his face in Dan’s pillow, enveloping himself fully in his essence. He tightens his grip and pulls once, slow and deliberate. His breath comes out hard and loud.

"A-ah—!" slips from his lips, the sweet tension dripping from his body. He digs his shoulder in to Dan’s mattress, pressing his chin in to his chest. The fabric of Dan’s shirt rubs against his cheek; the image of Danny above him burned in to his eyelids. As his strokes increase in speed and intensity he gives himself to his senses, his eyes squeezed shut—only hearing his own breathing and Dan’s encouraging voice.

—-

It’s late, and Dan knows he’s late. The probably of Barry still being awake is high, but he decides to sneak in anyway, just in case he’s sleeping. He smiles lightly at the idea of walking in to the apartment and seeing Barry asleep on the couch, his laptop resting precariously on his legs. He doesn’t really know how to stop working and Dan finds those qualities admirable. God knows when he was 24 he didn’t have that kind of work ethic. Their editor never really ceases to amaze him and even though he’s older he has to look up to him. If not for that than for the face he can grow and rock a beard—that is a real talent right there.

He inserts the key slowly, hearing each tumbler release, before turning the key as lightly as possible. The lock slides audibly and he has to cringe—that was a little loud. He takes a moment to listen in, to see if anything stirred. After a minute he doesn’t hear anything and turns the knob, letting the springs do most of the work. When it’s finally open he pushes it slightly, knowing that any faster makes the hinges squeak. He closes it as silently as he opens it and when he turns around he notices that the apartment is not dark. There’s only one light in the living room on and it’s the one by the couch—the light Barry usually uses while he’s working. Next to the light is Barry’s laptop, sitting open on the side table. Dan walks over and glances at it, noticing there’s an open file that’s incomplete on the screen.

A little concerned, he walks toward the hallway that their rooms are down and notices Barry’s light is off—he can’t be sleeping. He would have saved his work or put his laptop away or—he looks farther down the hallway and notices his light is on. He looks at it questionably. There’s no way he would have forgotten to turn his light off. He walks to the door, resting the tips of his fingers on it, poised to shove it open—when he hears it. There’s small gasp, a hard breath, a shuddering moan. His spine locks up. His body tenses. His fingers frozen on the wood of his door. He hears Barry’s small noises drifting through the open crack in the door. Fuck. What should he do? 

He doesn’t want to embarrass his friend, or make him feel shitty, but can’t just leave. That’s his room! And he’s—-!

Danny’s face flushes at the thought. Is he touching himself? Why is he in his room? Is he still clothed? Is he naked? Where is he in the room? What sparked him to start spanking it there?! Nobody told him this shit could happen. He’s torn between saving the sanctity of his room and saving the goodwill of their room mate relationship— stuck at the door Dan can’t help but listen.

He hears a choked moan, followed by a deep groan that resonates right to his cock. It’s so wrong to hear this, to be turned on by this, but he is. The idea of someone getting off in his room is oddly appealing. 

With some sort of unknown tenacity he pushes open the door slightly, peering through the crack. He sees him, on his bed, in his plaid shirt. His dick twitches in his jeans. Fuck, that’s hot. 

He’s going hard, pumping himself fully, breathing in to his shoulder, taking him in with every breath. His body trembles with each pass, his lips red and swollen from biting them. He’s trying to be quiet, but moans force their way through his mouth, the sound clinging to Dan’s throat and choking him. He can feel his mouth go dry, swallowing hard. Barry gasps as his hand passes over the sensitive head, his shoulders shaking. His motions get faster and his chest heaves in effort; he turns on to his back, allowing a fuller range of motion. Dan watches as he thrusts upward in to his hand, his mouth fully opening in a final gasps.

"Dan-Danny—"

Barry tilts his head back comes hard in to his own hand, some getting on to his shirt. Dan watches in amazement as Barry writhes and moans in residual orgasm, the fabric bunching around his body and riding up his skin. His now fully hard cock strains against his jeans; the whole display makes his mouth dry and a dull ache spreads through his crotch. Danny lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. God dammit, that’s sexy. How was he supposed to know that his best friend and room mate was hot for him?! And how was he supposed to know that he was craving him just as badly? He shifts uncomfortably outside of the door, wanting nothing more than to shove the door open and get Barry off again. The only problem is he waited way too long—the moment is gone. As Barry rides out his orgasm Dan figures to save both of them unwanted embarrassment he has to leave—and fast. He pulls himself away from the door, slinking back down the hall and out the door and quietly as he had came in. As he stands outside his door he wills away his erection, attempting to think about anything else other than Barry digging his heels in to his mattress and arching his back when he came. Fuck, that is not helping.

What feels like hours pass by before he attempts Going In to the Apartment: Part 2. This time he makes sure to be as loud as possible, turning the key with haste and flinging the door open—prompting a ear deafening squeak. To Dan’s relief Barry is sitting on the couch, fully clothed in pajamas, his dick out of sight. Barry jumps and turns toward him upon his arrival. Dan beams him an ignorant smile.

"Hey dude!" He says with as much nonchalance as he can muster after seeing him masturbate in his most holy of holy places. Fuck, don’t think about it. Shit, stay down you foul beast!

"Hey Dan." He mumbles to his laptop. As the blush creeps up his neck he adds, "I started a load of laundry for you…"

Oh, so that’s why he was in his room. Dan nods and walks over to his door, noticing it’s fully closed now with the light properly off. Flicking the light on he looks around his room. His bed tidy as usual and his floor unusually tidy. A lump of black catches his eye and he scoffs.

"Hey," he calls out the living room. "You forgot something." and tosses a black blob to Barry. He watches as his room mate pales and stares at a shirt—his shirt to be precise—left on the floor of Dan’s room after his dirty misdeeds.

He turns around to give Dan an open mouth, stunned look, but Danny’s already in his room and locking the door. He’s got something he needs to take care of and that something it’s currently rubbing painfully against his zipper.


	13. Quad Barrysta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take the end piece as a thank you from me to you. ily all!~

He’s always there when he goes. The past two times he’s there, sitting behind the counter; either bored as hell and distracted or busy and focused. However, he’s not by himself today—he’s huddled together with a fellow employee, whispering with some girl that he recognizes as the phantom who runs the espresso machine. She’s a bit taller than him, dressed to the tens, completely done up in dark makeup, curled black hair, sharp black nails… They’re currently hunched up close to one another in a private conversation, whispering fervently—she’s doing most of the whispering, using her hands to accent how loud she really wants her voice to be; which, judging by her arm circles, is pretty loud. He takes small steps, slowly getting closer, and as he creeps on to their back and forth he hears a snip-it of her whispers.

"And you didn’t get his number?!" She half shouts as Barry cowers a bit farther in to himself, obviously intimidated by the taller woman. He shakes his head, losing the ability to whisper back when she’s looming over him like a mother hen. Barry senses his slow approach and turns his head, ready to help a normal customer, but makes eye contact with Dan. Dan gives him an apologetic smile, attempting to communicate he’s sorry for interrupting whatever conversation they was having. Barry’s face instantly drains of all color and Danny has to guess they were talking about something of dire consequence of which he wasn’t supposed to hear. The porcelain girl looks irritated, seeing Barry’s attention elsewhere and turns to see who he was staring at. She slaps both hands over her mouth, her face draining of angry; her worried eyes darting between Barry and Dan expectantly. Dan’s smile slips off of his face, confused at their silence and surprise. It takes a while, but Dan’s the first one to break the silence.

"Hey, I’m Dan." He says to her, forcing yet another smile—attempting to break some of the weird tension that’s floated in to the air.

"I know…" The girl sing songs lightly before introducing herself through a fit of giggles, "Suzy." She says curtly, glancing over at Barry once more and then back to Dan. Suzy gives a shy smile from behind her fingers and leans over to Barry. She whispers a painfully audible, "He  _is_  cute…”, causing Barry to cringe away from her. She does a slight nod towards Dan before scurrying back over to her espresso machine, hiding behind the towering mechanism. Dan decides to pretend he didn’t hear anything to save them both from the onslaught of embarrassment and turns back to Barry. He’s red from the neck up and stares at the register with such severity Dan’s afraid he might explode it with his mind. Dan has to chuckle at his nervousness; he’s always so quiet and reserved when Dan’s there. He can see him be a normal, functioning cashier when he helps other customers, but he visibly freezes up when Dan comes to the counter. Dan didn’t want to have a silent stare down today, so he makes a push towards normalcy.

"Could I get a small coffee?" Dan smiles down at Barry as he nods curtly, pushing a few too many buttons to ring up his small coffee. Dan watches the small screen as several other drink orders flood the register that aren’t ‘small coffee’. He takes to reading them out loud as Barry fumbles around the keys, only making him mess up even more.

"Cappuccino… Mochachino? Americano… Vanilla latte… Macchiato… Caramel macchiato… What the hell is a frittata? Is it any good?" Dan laughs as Barry’s shoulders hunch forward with every wrong order, his chin retracting in to his chest and his face splotchy. A giggle bubbles through his lips, it’s too cute to get him worked up—to work through his mask of customer service and see his real self. He’s been addicted to digging through his thin shell of normalcy to unveil his delicious personality. It’s like opening up an oyster and finding a pearl inside; it’s oddly satisfying and makes him disgustingly happy. His smile spreads wide across his face, "You’re adorable when you’re flustered." He says through bits of laughter. Barry’s finger freezes over the keys. His eyes stare unseeing at the gibberish of faded buttons. He’s in total shock, just standing there, frozen, suspended in time. Dan clears his throat. Did he say something weird? Maybe he was teasing him too much. He waves in front him, leaning down and tilting his head to the side to get a good look. Yep, he’s frozen. His eyes are wide, watering slightly at the edges. His face is so red Dan’s afraid steam might start to waft off of his cheeks in small billows of embarrassment. This is what he wanted to avoid. Crap. What did he do?

The wisp of a girl comes out from her station, pushing Barry aside with ease and quickly smashing in keys until all of the old orders are erased and replaced with a small coffee. Barry stands next to the register, jostled out of his own thoughts, he fumbles for a cup, grabbing a large one this time, and starts filling it up with coffee. As the cup slowly fills Dan watches as Barry is able to calm himself from whatever kind of fit he was having. Dan feels terrible when he turns around and his face is still red, eyes not meeting his. This is not how he wanted this visit to go. He’s about to drop to his knees and apologize when Barry’s voice squeaks through his worry.

"Did-" he takes a breath, still unable to look up, "Did you say I was…" Barry glances up, meeting his eyes for a split second before splotches of pink dance across his cheeks and he has to look back down. "…adorable?" his voice squeaks on the last syllable, his own body betraying him even more. Dan’s heart wrenches in his chest, it’s too much.

"Yeah," he breathes out; Barry’s head whipping back up. Dan’s hands shoot up in front of him, shaking back and forth in a dismissive gesture.  "I-I’m sorry; did it bother you?! I won’t say it again!" Dan stutters seeing Barry’s surprised eyes meeting his own,

"No!" Barry half shouts; a pan falls to the ground from behind Suzy’s station, it must have shocked her too. "No, um…" Barry regains volume control, "It didn’t bother me.. At all…" a smile dances on  his lips and genuine happiness seeps in to his features. Danny’s heart stops in his chest. If it didn’t bother him, then that means he was embarrassed because… Dan can feel the sweat pool on the palms of his hands. He’s suddenly too nervous to speak, the apologies melting away and replaced with a spontaneous, stupid idea.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" Dan blurts, wiping a sweaty hand on his jeans. Barry jumps backwards slightly and Dan can hear Suzy giggle behind her station, but can’t be bothered to actually turn and look. Barry’s putting on a spectacle while stuttering for an answer; his hands flail around the register, unsure of what to say or how to say it. He brings his hands up to his face and covers it completely. He nods his head in to his cupped palms.

"Yes!" Barry finally gasps out, breathing heavily in to his own hands. He runs his fingers up his face and through his short hair, grabbing the back and leaning forward, attempting to catch his breath. He’s so distressed Dan has to take a minute to process the fact he agreed. Giddy with excitement, he’s unsure of what to say next—any semblance of calm, cool and collected he might have had flew out the window as soon as Barry gave the green light. They should set a time, set a date, go somewhere nice… Where should they go? What should they do?

Danny leans over the counter, crossing in front of Barry and grabbing his marker, Barry’s eyes following his long arm and dexterous fingers. He beckons Barry over, tilting his head back in a jerking motion and smiling. Barry follows his command like a little puppy. Dan reaches towards him and grabs one of Barry’s hands, bringing it back towards him. On the back of his hand in his messy scrawl he writes out his number, making sure to write every digit clearly. He can hear Barry do a hard swallow. When he releases his hand, Barry retracts it slowly, bringing it to his face and holding his wrist with his other hand like it’s a precious object. He stares at his hand incredulously and Danny laughs at his sincerity.

"Let me know when you’re free." Danny waits for him to look up before turning to leave, throwing him the biggest smile he could muster. As if on cue, Barry calls to him as he reaches the door.

"Tomorrow!" he calls, "I get off at 8 tomorrow!" Dan turns around and walks backwards through the door.

"See you then." He wants to say more, begs himself to say something smooth or cool, or anything—but he’s already out the door.

When he’s safely away from the windows he takes a minute to let his nervous energy catch up to him. He squats down on the sidewalk a block down from the shop, resting his arms on his knees and his coffee on the pavement. He runs his hands through his hair and looks up at the endless skyline of New York City. 

His cheeks hurt; he brings one hand down to touch his face. For some reason he can’t stop smiling.

—-

The rest of the day was painfully long. Barry’s heart never stopped pounding. He could feel his pulse in his finger tips every time he touched his marker. 

He’s at home on his bed, clad in only a loose fitting T-shirt and boxers, the surreal events of the day making it impossible for him to fall asleep. He’s alone in his dark room and his mind wanders as he stares at his ceiling.

He remembers what he wore today, dark jeans, a faded shirt and his worn leather jacket. He always smiles; he’s always cheerful, always wanting to talk to him, always making an effort to see him. Barry can feel something stir in the pit of his stomach. The idea that they’re going to hang out causes butterflies to creep in to his throat, choking him with possibilities. He closes his eyes and his mind drifts.

_They’re dangerously close in the small confines of Dan’s car. Dan leans over the center console, bringing a hand up to touch his jaw and trace down to his chin, grasping it lightly. He leans forward, their faces hovering only centimeters over his. Barry can feel his breath against him; he wants to kiss him; he needs to kiss him. Dan’s lips graze his in a ghost of a kiss and Barry’s heart stops. His stomach clenches painfully, the teasing kiss making his breath come faster against him. He forces himself against Dan, his moan passing through their lips and cascading down his throat. He can hear Dan’s breath hitch and only moments later can feel Dan’s hands on his chest, wandering hands reaching under his shirt._

Keeping his eyes closed his hands slip past the band of his boxers, tracing down his hip bones. He gasps lightly when his cold fingertips come in contact with his warm cock. He’s painfully hard; the friction of his calloused fingers sweet and torturous. Using both hands he lightly glides the tips of his fingers over himself, slowly traversing down the length at an excruciating pace. His chest shudders in anticipation.

_His shirt’s gone and they’re in the back seat, tangled together. Their sweat drops down their necks, mixing together as their bodies move. The feeling of their skin colliding against one another sending jolts down his body. He can feel him breathing against him, panting above him, breaking away from his lips to whisper his name. “Barry…”_

When he fully grips himself his mouth opens in a silent moan, his throat closing almost immediately. As he flexes his hands he finds his voice, a long groan rumbling through his throat. He moves his hands together, up and down his length in a teasing motion, never getting a fully satisfied pass. He pulls one hand out, putting it behind himself, gripping the pillow hard. He uses his new leverage to make every pull harder, faster— the sudden onslaught on his nerves making him bite his lip; containing the low moans whining through his throat.

_He breaks their kiss and presses their foreheads together for a moment, breathing hard. He slips past his face and presses light kisses against the skin of his throat, trailing down his collarbone, leaning hard against him. “You’re adorable…”_

He gasps his name, digging his heels in to the mattress and thrusting up in to his hands, the warm liquid staying in the tight confines of his boxers. He feels the tremors pass through his body, curling his toes and arching his back. As he rides out the final waves of orgasm Dan’s face is clear on the back of his eyelids. He’s so lost in his own fantasy that he can feel him, sense his presence above him. He stays like that, waiting for the dread and regret to sink in, but it never comes.

He decides to never open his eyes, falling asleep; Dan occupying the hollows of his eyelids.


	14. Stylized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of took a weird turn in my writing for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to divinity-deos on tumblr for the prompt!

Prompt: Shiver

He shivers beside me, tremors drifting up and down his legs. I watch as the muscle spasm with every pass, squeezing in violent intervals. He gasps when they stop, shocked at the sudden comfort. The moment is short lived as he relapses to gritted teeth and stifled moans. The sweat pools under his arms, soaking his sides and melting the sheets.

The goosebumps ripple up his arms, wriggling down his thighs. I watch as his leg sporadically twitches under the drenched blanket. The pooling fabric painful against the cutting hairs on his calve. Everything swims in pain; his nerves exposed, live wires freshly cut.

There was a time when I wanted him. When he was desirable and intangible. He used to be perfect. I look down on him now, in my bed, in our apartment, searing in agony. I cringe away from his searching fingers. My eyes drift in to memories and bury my consciousness in false happiness. He silently begs me for comfort, for any release, but I can’t see him now. I’m blind to what he became.

It’s been three days since he quit. Two nights since he grabbed me by the ankles of my pants and begged me to stay. If he can keep breathing he’ll be half way there. His mouth gapes open and takes deep silent breaths of pain. His lungs crack again the strain of new air. He’s drowning, drinking in the sea through wide eyes.

\---

When I bring my hands close to my face I can smell him lingering on my finger tips. His scalp buried deep in the beds of my fingernails. My hands running through his hair, scraping their way back to his neck, cutting a path down his head. The room’s empty, but his scent melts in to my pours, releasing slowly with every breath. My empty, wanting fingers lightly tapping against the flair of my nostrils, begging for more of him.

When I swallow I can taste him in the back of my throat. The deep feeling of his tongue grazing the roof of my mouth, licking the back of my teeth. His lips curled over mine, so close we can’t close our mouths. Our breath mixing together, heating up our cheeks and traveling slowly out our noses. My mouth opens, the feeling of the cool air drifting through my teeth, lips reaching for nothing.

When I close my eyes I feel the sweat drip off of his forehead and on to mine. A small stream trickles down my temple, gentle caressing my cheek. I savor the moment I see him above me. The effort clear in the sheen across his face. I gaze at him through hooded eyelids, absorbing the image as liquid photographs, never truly in focus.

When I listen to the white noise I can hear his moans echo through my ears. Our bodies shift together, rubbing the grain of our skin on to each other. Bits of him shed on to me, replacing the fragments of myself I've lost. His ghastly groans ghost against the shell of my ear, cloaking my name in the creaks of the mattress. I shiver in to the void where he used to collapse, his body instantly melded to the mattress, chest heaving silent words of content.

When I open my eyes the shock of nothing scares me. Staring deep in to the unseeing, white expanse of the unforgiving ceiling; I watch him walk away. My tongue is heavy against my jaw, unable to conjure words of remorse and regret. His back cold and distant. His true feelings buried in the curve of his shoulder, lost in the weight of what he carries.   
When I remember I hurt and when it hurts I remember why I forget.


End file.
